The Last Hour
by Anemone Frost
Summary: (Follows Sorrow and TWWL) When Merry learns of his failing health he travels to the Shire to see his son one last time. (Warning: Contains NCS themes though edited))
1. Default Chapter

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Disclaimer: Most of the used characters belong to Tolkien.

Merry stood staring out the window at the night sky. Atop the towers flags bearing the white tree shimmered in the moonlight. A cool breeze blew through his curls, sending chills down his spine. He moved away sitting down by the hearth. Reaching for a bowl of water he paused to gaze at his reflection. He shuddered at the image. Only twenty years had passed and time had taken its toll on Merry's body.

Quickly, he turned away from the reflection unable to bear the sight any longer. It had been a wretched week, a wretched twenty years for that matter. Within the week he had developed pneumonia and bruised ribs. King Elessar had ordered bed rest but that night he was unable to sit still. Restlessness was a plague for him. A soft knock on the door drew his attention.

"Come in," Merry said softly. The door opened revealing King Elessar. "Good evening lord. What brings you here to my room?"

"Just checking up on you friend," Elessar said, "and a good thing I came too. You're supposed to be in bed. Staying up this late in your stature will only make your illness worse."

"I know," Merry replied, "but I'm unable to sleep."

"Were you having those nightmares again?" Elessar asked. Merry nodded. "You should drink the brew the herbalist prepared for you. It may help with your uneasiness and your nightmares."

"How is the Shire, my lord?" Merry asked.

"It's fine, as it always was and always will be," Elessar answered. He eyed Merry. "I think I know what this is about. You're homesick, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid so," Merry sighed. "With every passing year it grew worse and worse and now it has gotten to the point where I feel as if I'll go insane. I just....I miss everyone."

"I know this must be extremely hard on you but it was for the best at the time," Elessar soothed. "The rage you harbored toward your son was dangerous. You did the right thing by leaving. However, a great deal of time has passed and I can see your emotions toward him have changed. I know your wish, you want to return to the Shire."

"Yes, that is what I would like to do," Merry said, "but I have doubts about doing so. As you've said, so much time has passed. The Shire I knew has probably transformed to a foreign land. A lot of change was taking place in the Shire when I left twenty years ago. Besides, even if I did return there would be nothing there for me. My son would be twenty years of age and probably wouldn't even know who I was. I doubt the Smallburrows would tell him the truth."

"I fear that your doubts are wrong," Elessar said. "I know for a fact, through the Palantir, that they told him the history of his real family five years ago. I didn't want to inform in worry that it would upset you. Your son has a strong desire to meet you."

"He does?" Merry beamed. "I must go see him at once!"

Elessar grasped his shoulders. "You are not going anywhere in your condition. Travel would only make your symptoms worse. Pneumonia is not something to fool around with. Many with strong bodies have died from it and you, my dear friend, do not have a very strong body at this point. It may take another two weeks for you to fully recover."

"Two weeks?! I can't wait that long!" Merry yelled. "You of all people know how much time I have left on Middle-earth. No, don't try to sugar code the matter for me. I've known for quite some time that my health has been failing and sooner or later death will be knocking at my door. I only wish I hadn't been so foolish. To wait so long to make a journey that I probably won't finish. Please, Elessar, in the name of our friendship you have to let me go. I'm willing to take the risk of death on the trip. Either way, by bed or journey, I will end up leaving this realm."

Elessar's eyes became downcast. "I'm sorry, Merry, but I just can't allow it. You wouldn't make it more then two days into the journey before you would keel over. I will send a messenger to Crickhollow to escort Peregrin Smallburrow to Minas Tirith. You will see your son."

"Is there no way I could change your mind?" Merry asked. Elessar shook his head. "As I thought." He slouched back into his chair.

Elessar took the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his friend's heaving form. "It's for your own good Merry. I don't want to see you lose your life just as Pippin did. I'm not about to lose another friend so soon. I'll send out the messenger tonight. If he rides quickly, with little stops, he could manage to make it there within two weeks. As long as you get your rest and don't do anything foolish you shall live long enough to see your son one final time."

The king left the room. Merry wiped at his eyes while going over his thoughts. He couldn't wait six weeks for his son to arrive. Although he loved his king, Merry would have to go against his wishes. Rising from the seat he went though the drawers and began to pack for his trip. He would make his escape during the night.

Two hours later.....

Merry cautiously strode down the streets of The White City while holding the reins of his pony. Sneaking out of the castle had been a lot harder then he anticipated. Sneaking around the guards wasn't easy and getting past the ones down by the gate would be even harder. He was running behind schedule all ready. There were traces of the morning sun on the horizon. If he wanted to escape the grounds without Elessar knowing he would have to be out of there by morning. Finally, after another hour of trailing along the maze-like city he came across the massive gate. Two guards at the end perched up when they noticed his approach.

"Who are you and what is your business?" one asked.

"I am a messenger of King Elessar," Merry replied. "I am to leave immediately for the Shire to deliver a message."

"That's strange," said the other guard, "a messenger just passed a few moments ago about to deliver a message to the same place."

"Well, King Elessar left an important note out of the message so he wants me to catch up with the other messenger," Merry answered.

"Sounds like our great king," the guard chuckled. "As of late his memory hasn't been the best."

"No, I fear old age is finally catching up to him," the other laughed. "We'll let you pass through little one." The guards yelled an order up top and the gate shuddered before slowly opening. "We gave the other messenger a warning so we'll do the same for you. The land around here hasn't been its normal self. The unusual amount of rain we've been getting has flooded some of the areas. Not only will you have to watch for that but also the earth has become soft and crumbles easily. Take it easy with the pony on narrow paths. You never know when a piece of the trail could slide away, leaving you in a dismal situation. Also, there have been strange reports of a strange creature roaming the woods and farms around here. Livestock have been slaughtered. Some believe it's a wolf while others think it's an orc or troll. No one has been able to find whatever it is, yet anyway."

"Thank you for the warning," Merry said, mounting his steed. He coughed violently. "I will be careful."

The guard eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure you should be traveling? You don't look so good little one. You're sweating and appear pale even in the meager light we have."

"I'm quite all right," Merry answered. "I was just notified at last minute and have been scrambling to get ready on time."

"Ah, I see," said the guard. "Well, best of luck to you. Farwell."

"Goodbye," Merry called as he took off from the city.

Soon, he was traveling along the woods and Minas Tirith went out of sight. Guilt for his actions rose in him but he suppressed it. There was nothing to feel guilty about; he had done nothing wrong. The desire to see his son was reason enough for his actions. Elessar, no doubt, would be furious with him but sooner or later he would understand and accept his decision. The ground around him was damp and the icy air burned at his lungs, causing him to hack loudly on several occasions. He took the elixir from his nap sack and drank the bitter fluid down. He sighed when it brought some relief to his heavy chest and aching lungs. The journey continued on through the woods when he came across a steep trail. The pony whined and tried to back away, seeming to sense something that Merry could not. The hobbit kicked the creature in its side and forced it to move on. The trail would provide a short cut, which would take a day off his trip. Traveling along he could hear a strange sound, resembling a pounding noise. He glanced up at the hills and shook off the sense of dread. Without warning the pony began to rear and buck.

"What's gotten into you!" Merry yelled, hanging on for dear life. "Whoa! Whoa!"

The pony threw him off, causing him to tumble down the slope and striking his back against a trunk. Gazing up he saw the pony begin to dart off when a massive claw broke out of the brush and snagged the steed. The body of a hill troll emerged from the foliage and bit down on the pony's neck, causing blood to spurt everywhere. The pony stilled. A feeling of nausea swept over Merry as he looked at the sickening beast ahead of him.

'How can this be?' Merry's mind screamed. 'I thought all trolls had turned to dust after the war. How did this one manage to remain undetected for so long?' His hand fell to his side, grasping at the small blade in his belt. 'I have to get away from here before it spots me and decides to turn me to dinner.'

The hobbit backed away as the troll began to gnaw at the pony's flesh. He was making good distance when he failed to notice a branch near his foot. When he stepped on it the twig it immediately snapped, echoing back toward the trail. Merry groaned when the troll's head snapped up and gazed in his direction. After taking a sniff of the air it lumbered toward him. Merry rose from the ground and bolted in the opposite direction. The stress of the situation overwhelmed his body. He hadn't been running for more then a minute when he began to feel exhausted. If he hadn't been ill, he could have gotten farter. Knowing he could go no more he spun around the face the towering creature. If his dear cousin Pippin had managed to slay one of the beasts then surly he could do the same. The creature came roaring toward him; arms raised up to make a crushing blow on his small body. Merry pivoted to the side and as the troll flew by he rammed the blade into its belly. The troll gave a strangled cry and began to tumble to the earth. 

However, the creature managed to swipe its claw behind and took hold of Merry's cloak. The hobbit was also taken down the hill and rolled along side the troll. Both went crashing into a deep pond. The troll and Merry began to sink into the water and in the creature's panic it tightened its hold on Merry's cloak, preventing the hobbit any chance to escape. Deeper and deeper the two sank into the water, causing Merry not only struggle for freedom but also dodging the occasional claw of the troll still attempting to kill him. Water was swarming into Merry's mouth and nostrils. His lungs were on fire and his mind was screaming. The two had struck the bottom and Merry found himself growing weak and more panicked. His hand grazed the butt end of the sword, still imbedded in the troll's stomach. Using the strength he had left he pulled the blade out and cut a portion of his cloak off, freeing himself from the troll's grip. He began to swim for the surface when the creature's claw took hold of his foot. Merry screamed under the water and slammed the blade on the troll's arm. Instantly, he was released and swam at top speed toward the surface. He came back up gasping violently for air. 

He waded over to the shore and collapsed against the sandy ground, coughing up water from his lungs. He was drenched and the cool air was freezing him. His insides felt as if they were on fire and he was tired. His eyelids were starting to droop and his battle to keep them open while trying to crawl away from the water was failing. 

'Nice going Merry,' he scolded himself. 'What a fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time. Elessar was right, I was in no shape to make such a perilous journey. So, this is how it's going to end for me. To die out in the wilderness. I bet the animals will find me sooner then Elessar himself. What have I done? I'll never see my son ......'

He passed into darkness.

More to follow.


	2. CH 2

*Some references to my other fic Forgotten. The age of Merry may be different compared to the books. Remember, this is AU.*

Warmth was the greeting Merry received as he regained consciousness. He ground himself lying in a soft bed draped in covers. The sound of a crackling fire drew his attention and upon gazing up he saw a lone chair sitting beside the hearth. A hand extended, jabbing at the rising flames with a poker. The figure rose, placed the poker aside, and glanced in Merry's direction. Fear entered Merry's mind while watching the stranger. He was unarmed and completely at the person's mercy. The figure stepped from the shadows, revealing a slender figure in a pale green gown.

"Do not be frightened little one," the woman said. "I mean you no harm."

"What am I doing here?" Merry asked, shivering.

"I found your body near the pond," the woman answered. "I couldn't just leave you out there drenched in the cold weather, now could I?" Merry shook his head. "I fear that you were injured as well. There was a deep gash in your leg but I managed to clean it with herbs and bandaged it also. I must say, you are pretty hardy for a hobbit. I saw the troll body floating at the bottom of the pond. How you were able to survive is beyond me."

"It wasn't easy," Merry chuckled, warming up to the woman. 

"Oh, forgive my rudeness," the woman said. "I am Bremusa Orindale, former resident of Minas Tirith."

"I am Meriadoc Brandybuck," the hobbit said, "but you may call me Merry. Why are you so far into the woods all by yourself? Wouldn't you rather be in the confines of...."

"I could ask you the same thing, Merry," Bremusa answered. The woman sat again near the hearth, raking her nails through her chestnut colored hair. "It's far more unusual for a hobbit to be wandering the woods then a woman. What are you doing out here anyway?"

"I was traveling from Minas Tirith to return home to the Shire," Merry replied. "I'm going to see my son."

"Hm, I'm very surprised that the guards ever let you out at this time of night," Bremusa said. She gazed over his pallid form. "Especially someone that looks as if they could keel over any minute."

"I'm fine," Merry said.

"Yes, I'm sure," Bremusa sneered. "Your need to see this son of yours must be urgent if you risk death so freely. You need time to recuperate. It would be best if you'd stayed here for a bit."

Merry jerked and jumped from the sheets. "No, I cannot stay here! I'm very grateful for your hospitality, there's no doubt that I would have died if it hadn't been for you, but me staying in your home isn't an option. I have to admit that I'm not in the best of shape, worn down beyond my years due to stress and bodily harm. It won't be long before death comes to pay me a visit. Time is wasting; I must return to The Shire."

Bremusa stared at him with shock. "I knew you were ill but I never thought you were dying. You still look quite young, no more then thirty."

Merry blushed. "You are quite kind but I am in my fifties, which is still considered young among hobbits. The onslaught of age is starting to affect me."

"You're very handsome," Bremusa chuckled, causing the hobbit to turn crimson. "You certainly don't look old to me. Tell me of your family and perhaps I will tell a little about me."

Merry nodded and started his long tale beginning when Frodo had found The Ring. For what seemed hours Merry talked of his past as Bremusa listened near the hearth. Disbelief clouded her face as she heard his ordeal with the orcs alongside his cousin, the violent death of his beloved cousin and wife, and his departure from The Shire. With all said and done the two sat in silence until Bremusa broke it.

"I never conceived the thought that someone's life could be full of so much heartache and pain," Bremusa murmured. "Indeed, you are strong person Merry." She thought idly. "But I doubt you could ever make it home in your condition let alone deal with the dangers. There are other creatures abroad not to mention robbers lurking at every corner." Merry began to protest when the woman rose and silenced him. "I will journey with you. I may be a woman but I'm stronger then I look and have been trained with the sword. Believe me, you'll need help."

"I thank you for your offer but it isn't necessary," Merry said. "I can take care of myself."

"That type of attitude could get you killed some day," Bremusa replied. "Besides, you don't have much of a choice. I'm going with you whether you like it or not. For now, rest. We will speak more in the morning."

The woman tucked Merry back into bed and exited through a side door into another bedroom. The hobbit laid quietly until he thought the woman was asleep. He gathered his belongings and bolted out the door. The night air pierced his skin as he entered the outside. Ahead of him stood a small stable and he walked inside, finding a pony at the end of the stalls. Before taking the steed he placed a small pouch of coins on a nearby stool and then left the stable, leading the pony by its reins. The hobbit mounted the steed and rode off into the woods. He glanced once more at the disappearing house. Again, guilt was taking over him. He would be leaving another person, who cared for his well being, even though he didn't know her well. 

He continued on until the morning light could be seen shinning through the trees. About to dismount from the steed a sharp blow struck his back causing him to fall to the ground. Tilting his head he found several men looming over him.

"Ugh, another wonderful find Thorine," one of the men growled. "I doubt this one carries much of value, considering he's a hobbit."

"It's not my fault Merwin," Thorine snapped. 

"Shut up, the both of you," another man snarled. "Who knows, the little one may carry something." The man knelt, getting a better view of the hobbit. "And if he doesn't carry something I'm sure we can find another use for him. People are always looking for pretty slave." He grabbed Merry's curls and gave a hard yank. "Hm, doesn't appear to be all that young but he's still good looking for whatever age he may be. Search his things, now."

"Who gets to search him?" Merwin chuckled.

"Who do you think?" the leader snickered. "Take a look at his face Thorine. Tell me, do you recognize him?"

"Now that you mention it, this one does look mighty familiar," Thorine said. "Yeah, I do know him. He journeyed to The Twin Dragons to avenge the death of his wife. Can you believe he was the one that did in Haridur? I was there you know; I saw everything that little one did."

"Is that so?" the leader asked. "Well, it appears as if we have a feisty one. Perhaps we need to tame him, eh? Have a bit of fun?" He lowered his lips to the halfling's ear. "I am Nephril and Haridur was my cousin. I've been searching a long time for you my little hobbit. To think I've wasted twenty years of my life searching for you and taking innocent lives. Yes, I've come across many other hobbits and when I found they weren't the right one well, I had to dispose of them." Merry shuddered. "Yes, that's right you worthless creature; their deaths are on your hands not mine. If you had stayed in The Shire none of them would have had to die. I suppose it's nothing to worry about now. I've found you and have no intention of letting you out of my grasp. In fact, I'm not even going to kill you. I'm going to make certain that the rest of your life is a living hell. No one kills off my family members and gets away with it."

"Your cousin took my cousin's life along with my wife's," Merry yelled. "He deserved what he got."

The hobbit's comment earned him a sharp kick in the side.

"Do I look like I care what he did?" Nephril growled. "I think I'll start where he left off with you and then I'm going to let my men take a shot at you. Once they've finished I'll start all over again."

Merry sobbed as he felt cold fingers tearing at his cloak. He began to remember the time he was hauled off into the woods at the hands of the orcs. He was going to be violated all over again. As Nephril's hand tugged on his breeches a dagger shot out from the darkness striking the man's hand. Nephril let out a startled cry and released his hold on the hobbit. He gazed down at the dagger and his eyes went wide.

"Quickly, get out of here!" Nephril barked at his men. "The dagger is that Minas Tirith guard! Where there's one there is another. Move out!" He mounted the horse, nursing his hand, and giving Merry a fierce frown. "You and I will meet again hobbit. This is far from over."

The thieves took off into the darkness leaving Merry alone with his savior. The hobbit spun and delighted grin formed on his face.

"You really didn't think you could give me the slip now did you?" Bremusa asked, venturing from the brush atop a horse. "I used to be one of the Tower guards. Nothing gets by me."

"How long have you been following me?" Merry asked. 

"Long enough," Bremusa laughed. She threw down the pouch of coins he had left. "Take it, I don't want it. The pony is yours for free."

"Thank you," Merry said, "for saving my life."

"I told you there were dangers," Bremusa sighed, "and it appears as if you have quite the group tracking you. I can guarantee it won't be the last we see of them. I know that man's type. He won't stop until he's succeeded in torturing you."

"You act as if you knew him," Merry said.

"I may have run into him a few times in the past," Bremusa murmured. "But we won't get into that right now. We must move on. They'll be back soon and tracking us in no time, especially when they realize that it's just a woman with you and not Minas Tirith guards."

Merry climbed back on top the steed and followed after Bremusa.

More to follow.


	3. CH 3

The last three hours, though feeling like eternity, had been spent shifting through the woods. Bremusa had led him deep into the forest, across raging streams, and narrow paths in attempt to allude the band of thieves. Finally, in small clearing, Bremusa halted the horse, dismounted, and motioned for Merry to do the same. Merry sighed in content when he landed against the soft grass while pulling a blanket over his twitching shoulders. He was pleased to earn a well-deserved rest. The woman sat in the middle of the clearing and lit a small fire. The hobbit immediately jumped from his covers and kicked dirt near the flame. Bremusa let out a startled cry and then seized the hobbit, slamming him to the ground. For a moment Merry actually feared for his life when he saw swelling rage on Bremusa's face. Her fingers griped his shoulders painfully, digging into his flesh.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Bremusa snapped.

Merry stuttered. "We cannot have a fire. It could lead Nephril and his men right to us. It isn't wise."

"I know what I am doing Halfling," Bremusa snarled, shoving him away. "Never interfere with me again. Besides, you are ill. The warmth of a fire will do you good."

Merry crawled away in shock at the woman's brash behavior. She turned away in a huff and resumed kindling the fire. The hobbit drew the blanket back over him and nestled against the soft blades of grass. He began to drift into slumber when he felt a hand gently shaking him. Looking up he found the woman hovering over him.

"You should not lie in the grass," Bremusa murmured. "It is still damp from the rains. Wetness will only cause you more ills. Come, lay with me near the fire. It's more warm and comforting."

Merry shook his head. "No thank you. I'm fine here."

The woman's eyes narrowed but she gave off a defeated sigh. "I only wish to help you but every time you refuse me. No, no, don't try to defend yourself you have no need. I understand that you still feel awkward around me, after all we just met. But you have to understand that I am here to help you."

"Forgive me," Merry said, "but it seems that most people in the world, now a days, require a price for their services."

"Ah, I see everything clearly now," Bremusa chuckled. "Nay, little one. I am helping you for free as I all ready made clear. I require nothing from you. Your safety is my reward. Please, let me help you." She gently made Merry lay on his side as she placed another blanket on the ground. Once done, she allowed him to roll on his back. Her hand ran through his soft curls and spoke in a low, soft tone. "You are a cute one indeed. No wonder why Nephril has been tracking you."

"He wants to kill me," Merry muttered.

"I heard the conversation," Bremusa said, causing Merry to blush. "Don't be ashamed of his behavior."

"I'm not," Merry said, "but it's still embarrassing to talk about. Could you drop the subject?"

"Very well," Bremusa answered. "How about you tell a little more on your son?"

"There's nothing much," Merry sighed. "When he was a newborn I left him with friends and traveled to Minis Tirith.

The woman left to sit near the fire. Merry shuddered and went into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning Merry woke to a downpour of rain. He scuttled about the muddy earth trying to salvage all the goods in his pack. Bremusa rushed behind him, dragging along his pony.

"The weather is turning foul!" Bremusa yelled above the rolling thunder. "We must seek shelter immediately!"

"But where?" Merry called. "There are no settlements that could take us in. We're too far into the woods."

"I know of some caves in these parts!" Bremusa said. "We'll head there and hope things take a turn for the better."

The woman took the hobbit by the arm and headed out of the clearing, taking Merry further into the vast woods. Even under the cover of the trees the rain down poured with a ferocious speed. The hobbit frowned when the caves came into plain view. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped inside a dark cave but there was no other alternative. A cold gust blew from the cave sending a shiver down Merry's spine. Bremusa's hold became painful as her nails sank into his tender flesh. At the rate she was going Merry had to hop along just to keep from tripping. A sudden pang of fear coursed through him. Although he could not explain it, a nagging voice inside his head was telling him to break free of her grip and flee. His fingers tried to pry open hers.

"Oh, I am sorry little one," Bremusa said, patting him on the head. "I was so caught up in getting you out of the rain I forgot my own strength. I hope I did not wound you in any way?"

"No," Merry coughed. "Just, please, do not do it again. Being held like that brings back bad memories."

"Never fear Merry," Bremusa chuckled. "I have no plans of hurting you."

"Exactly how far are we going?" Merry asked.

"Far enough to set up a fire," Bremusa replied.

"It's so dark," Merry shivered. "Isn't it perilous to be journeying through here in so little light?"

"I know where I am going," Bremusa said. "I've been through these parts dozens of times."

The nagging voice had returned to Merry. "I don't want to go in. Perhaps we could set up camp here instead?"

"No, no it's too close to the entrance," Bremusa argued. "It could attract the band of thieves you are so worried over."

Heat flushed against Merry's cheeks when he remembered the conversation near the fire. It seemed odd to him that she was so fearful of drawing attention now when she seemed at ease the other night. He could sense it; something was off. He began to tug harder to free himself from her.

"I really think it would be unwise to go any further," Merry snapped. "Please, release me at once."

"Trust me," came Bremusa's answer.

The hobbit studied her features. Though dark he could see the sweat beading on the woman's brow. Her eyes were starting dart from his face to the back of the cave. In the distance Merry could see a faint yellow flickering. The cave was all ready inhabited.

Merry glared up at Bremusa. "What is down there?"

"What?" Bremusa asked. "I cannot see anything."

Merry gave one final glance at Bremusa and struggled viciously until he was able to break free. He took off as fast as his feet could carry him. The sound of his footsteps echoed throughout the cave but the sound only grew when something larger also took chase. Bremusa was yelling at him the background but he ignored it, set on escaping from the cave. He never made it to the entrance. A familiar body came crashing into him, which forced him the ground. His skull bounced off the stone floor leaving him in a slight daze. Two forms hovered over him, bickering. The hobbit turned his head attempting view the two people. 

"Humph, took you long enough," a voice shot.

"Well, I got him here didn't I?!" Bremusa snapped. "Oh, great, he's up."

The man lowered himself to Merry's level and pressed his face on his, leaving puffs of hot breath on his cheek. "Do you recall who I am Halfling?"

Merry squeezed his eyes shut. "Nephril." Tears threatened to spill from him as thoughts raced in his head. 'Not again, please not again. This can't be happening. Not again. Will I never escape from this torment? Please, make it stop. I can't survive another brutal attack. This isn't happening, no it can't be happening; not again.'

"Hm, so the half-pint does have a brain," Nephril chuckled. "Aw, are you confused little one? You should be. After all, it must be quite a shock to be betrayed by the person who saved your life and took you in."

Bremusa shrugged at Merry's confused state. "It's really not that complicated."

"You see, little one, for the past twenty years I have had quite the bounty on your head," Nephril said. "I wanted so desperately to get my hands on you that I was willing to pay a hefty price for anyone that could capture you. Unfortunately, you had to enter Minas Tirith and no one was willing to risk entering the city to steal you away from the tower. Then, you made the mistake of venturing out on your own." He sneered at Bremusa. "It was upon sheer luck that my lady friend found you and took you in, gaining your trust. You see, she's been waiting outside the White City just for this moment."

"But she attacked you," Merry said.

"So it seemed my dim-witted halfling," Nephril snickered. "Neither of us were willing to risk being caught carting you around. We were still close to Minas Tirith and, regrettably, it seems King Elessar knows that you are missing. I saw guards snooping around the forest searching for something, most likely you." He pinched the hobbit's flushing cheeks. "Surely you must have thought something was aloof when Bremusa lit a fire last night? No, I guess you couldn't. Such a trusting creature. We were able to track the flames and long after you were asleep we had a meeting with her. Apparently, this would be the best place to hide out until the guards passed by."

"So, you are his friend then?" Merry asked, gazing back at Bremusa.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Bremusa murmured. She shot an icy glare at Nephril, who was smirking at her. "I hope you realize that I still want that reward money, friend or no friend."

"Fine, you will have it," Nephril said, throwing a small pouch at her. "What a sum of money to just hand away but it was worth it in a sense. You're going to be worth every coin."

The man wrapped his hand around Merry's neck, squeezing his windpipe. With his air rapidly being cut off, Merry broke out in a fury of flaying arms and legs. Nephril seemed by shocked by the outburst and drew back his hand. With bandaged flesh in plain view, the hobbit sank his teeth in deep until he could taste a coppery liquid streaming into his mouth. A loud yelp echoed in the cave as Nephril shuddered and jerked, attempting to free his hand. Even with the jerky motion Merry refused to relinquish his hold, which earned him a strong blow to the side of his head. Pounding pain coursed through him causing him to gasp in discomfort but he still would not let go and he drove his teeth harder into the quivering flesh, so hard he could feel his teeth starting to mash against bone. The blows descended upon Merry at a furious rate making him undergo a spell of dizziness. Finally, his mouth lifted from the abused flesh and he tumbled back on the stone floor. The hobbit began to cower in fear of the worst as Nephril charged him. However, Bremusa darted in front of the man and shoved him back.

"You fool, control your temper!" Bremusa yelled. "In your infuriated state you'll surly kill him!"

"Er, I didn't know you cared for such a worthless creature," Nephril snarled, grasping his bleeding hand.

"Humph, I could care less for his welfare," Bremusa snorted, "but if you do away with him so soon you'll probably ask for a refund and I'm not about to give anything back to you."

"Never fear, the money is yours to keep," Nephril growled. "Though I doubt he'll survive long after this outbreak anyway. The bugger made my injured hand worse."

"That's your own fault," Bremusa said, spinning around. "Farewell little hobbit. I suppose I won't be seeing you around anymore."

"Where do you think you're going?" Nephril asked. "I need help transferring this feisty one to the back of the cave. I would have my companions help but they're busy at the moment."

"Well, that's your problem," Bremusa shrugged. "I don't want to spend a moment longer in this place. My luck, Elessar's guards will catch me with you and do you realize what will happen then? We'll all be put to the sword. He is overly protective of the ones he loves and strikes out at those who would hurt them with a ferocity that I have never seen. I suggest that you be careful and for your sake not get caught."

The woman disappeared into the darkness. Merry could hear himself whimper. He shuddered when he felt moist breath on his neck.

"Just wait until later my halfling," Nephril hissed. "I can guarantee you'll be making a lot more pained noise then that."

The man stood and rammed his heel into Merry's face with such crushing force that it immediately knocked him out.

More to follow.


	4. CH 4

A dark haze clouded over Merry's eyes as he slowly drew them open. He lifted his head to view the area around him but a wave of dizziness swept over him forcing him back to the floor. Though everything was blurry, he could make out a small fire with three figures huddled around it. Groaning, he rubbed his aching nose to feel moisture quickly envelop his fingertips; blood. It dawned on him then where he was and who was with him. The hobbit tried to limp away as quietly as he could but the previous blow had left him disoriented and he soon stumbled over his own feet. The noise only alerted the men behind him. Rough hands grasped his cloak and jerked him backward while uttering the word 'sneak'. A startled yelp echoed in the cave when his back slammed into the stone floor.

"You fool!" Nephril hissed at Merwin. "We can't have him crying out like that! The noise could reach the entrance and draw the attention of guards. I have no intention of being captured, especially knowing what the possible penalty could be. Bring him back here."

Merry cringed as two sets of hands hauled him off the floor by his shoulders and legs. At first the hobbit remained docile, allowing the men to carry him to the fire, until he finally realized where they intended to place him. He whipped around violently in means to free himself but it only caused the two men to squeeze their hands into him, causing an unbearable pressure in his ankles and clavicle. A gasp of defeat came from him as he was lowered to the floor. Nephril eagerly took the hobbit into his lap, spinning Merry around until he was face down in front of the fire with the other two men sitting across while his legs were beside the man's hips. A tremble of dread he couldn't contain coursed over his body when Nephril shoved his cloak aside. The sensation of large fingertips tickled down his spine causing sweat to slide down his brow. Panic began to form within him when the rutted fingers slid under his shirt and grazed over his flesh.

"Hm, such soft lovely skin you have," Nephril murmured. "It will be such a shame when we have sliced you to pieces in the end. Oh well, perhaps I could take a piece with me for a keepsake. I suppose the memory of what I will do to you will also suffice."

"Don't touch me!" Merry cried in revulsion. "You have no right to do this! Let me go at once or you will answer to King Elessar!"

Nephril laughed maliciously at him. "I doubt that Halfling. By the time I'm done with we'll be long gone. Why, I bet your body will never be found in here. But let us get off the morbid subject."

Merry gritted his teeth as the fingers descended to his rear. Unable to bear the thought of what would proceed, Merry attempted to leap to the side to avoid the exploring fingers. Nephril was slightly taken back by the abrupt movement but he was able to latch onto the sides of Merry's trousers and pulled back. The hobbit managed to wriggle free from the man's grasp but in doing so had wiggled out of a portion of his breeches, allowing his milky cheeks to be shown in the firelight. Humiliation crashed over him and he struggled to get the pants back up. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he saw all three men eyeing him. With his pants fully on Merry turned onto his back. Nephril grasped the hobbit's feet and dragged him across the floor until he was back in his lap.

"Aw, now why did you have to pull those back up for?" Nephril chuckled. "You look so much better without them." He tugged again on the trousers. "I wonder if you'll be as good as your son was."

Merry's eyes widened at the comment. For a moment he thought his ears were playing tricks on him. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Nephril hissed.

"You are lying," Merry muttered. "How could you know that I have a son?"

"No, I'm not," Nephril sadistically grinned. "I've been watching over your friends and loved ones for the past year. You should know hobbits, they love to gossip and gossip travels fast in The Shire, even to sly dogs such as myself. Well, my boys and I left things alone for a bit but when that boy of yours turned twenty, well, we couldn't leave things alone then. He was a sweet little thing wasn't he? We just couldn't resist something as young and tempting as him could we?" 

"I should say," Thorine laughed.

"Yup, one very good lay," Merwin sneered.

'No, no, they're lying,' Merry thought. 'They have to be lying.' 

"We left him alive though," Nephril said. "Death would have been too good for him. He'll carry the pain of that night with him until the end of his days that is if he doesn't kill himself before then. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if he chose that path. He was pretty messed up when we left him cowering, weeping, and bloodied. I suppose the same fate could go to those foster parents of his. You see, I had Thorine and Merwin hold them down so they could have the pleasure of witnessing me taking their adopted son. The boys and I did it all night long. Just like what we're going to do with you with one exception. We'll do away with you when we're done."

Sadness crept into him. Tears spilled down the side of his cheeks while his chest heaved with racking sobs. He didn't want to believe what the man was saying. He couldn't believe all the misery he had endured in his wretched life was now being passed onto his beloved son; his only son. A cloth was placed around his mouth, bringing him back to reality at the gruff contact. His clenched shut.

Nephril leaned against Merry's ear. "I think I shall go visit The Shire again when the weather is better. I want to play with that delightful son of yours one more time, if he's still around. I'm sure my men will take their fair turn as well. He had such beautiful hazel eyes. Hm, you do not have hazel eyes. Ah, he must have gotten them from your wife. Alas, it is a shame my cousin had to do away with her. I'm sure she was quite the looker too. Oh well, your son will have to do."

The hobbit's eyes flew open and the dark orbs no longer contained sorrow or despair but untamed fury. All the years of anguish had finally taken its toll on the hobbit. Something deep inside his mind had snapped.

Eyelids twitching, body shaking, Merry shot up from the ground landing a powerful kick to Nephril's jaw. The sheer force sent the men toppling over, slightly dazed from the blow. In a frenzy he spun around and charged at the other two men, grabbing anything he could find on the floor that made a feasible weapon. Thorine and Merwin were taken back at Merry's brashness and gazed in shock as he made his second blow, ramming a stone into the side of Merwin's head. The man instantly collapsed on the floor, eyes still open and mouth gapping in distress. Blood was oozing from the wound, creating a stream down the ground. Merry threw the rock to the bloodied rock, containing fragments of flesh and bone, to the floor. 

Thorine rose to tackle Merry but the hobbit leapt to the side and rolled toward a small set of daggers. Taking two of them in his hands Merry twisted back around to see Thorine attempting another charge. The hobbit ducked as the man reached for him and slashed at the bottom portion of his ankle. Thorine fell to the floor howling in agony as the blade pierced his tendon. When he gazed back up the last sight he ever took in was Merry descending upon him, piercing the soft tissue around his neck with the cold steel.

The hobbit sensed a smoldering gaze boring into the back of his head. Holding his head high, Merry turned back around until he locked eyes with Nephril. The man was sitting up massaging his aching jaw. His eyes were darting from the hobbit, to Thorine, to Merwin, and to the dagger Merry held that that splayed droplets of blood on the floor.

"You'll pay for this hobbit," Nephril hissed.

Merry gazed back silently at the man, his hands scrunching on the butt end of the daggers. As the man rose the hobbit leaped at him, wildly waving the blades at him. Nephril was able to grab Merry but succeeded in getting his arms cut in the process. The man smashed his full weight into the hobbit, sending him spiraling into the floor. Before he could rise back up Nephril fell upon him, instantly pinning him. Both daggers were batted out of his palms and his wrists were forced above his head. The crushing amount of weight placed on his stomach caused him to gag. He could feel his strength beginning to diminish.

"I must admit you're quite the fighter my little Halfling," Nephril said. "But you only managed to dispose of Thorine and Merwin because they were buffoons. I, on the other hand, am a different story. You'll have to do better then that to get rid of me." The man flexed his hips against Merry's causing the hobbit to gasp. There was hardness pressing on him. "You may bleed to death when I'm through."

"No!" Merry screamed as Nephril began to tear his pants off. "Stop!"

The man only laughed and tangled his hands into the soft locks on his head. He lifted Merry's head and pounded it into the floor. The cave seemed to spin as dizziness once again came over Merry. The man above him was grunting, fingers fumbling in his pants to remove his straining flesh. He almost retched at the feeling of his pants being pulled off and legs being pushed to his chest. A scream broke from him as Nephril began to shove himself inside the unwilling body. The pain was intolerable for Merry; he couldn't bear it. Merry's head was shaking back and forth at the throbbing agony spreading throughout his lower body.

__

He was no longer in the cave but in a dark forest being dragged away. Behind him he could see his dear cousin trying to reach him. With a cry Pippin leaped into the air and rammed into one of the orc's feet. The orc howled in shock and toppled to the ground, losing his hold on Merry. The hobbit tried to scramble to his feet but another orc from behind swept his feet from underneath, sending him crashing to the ground.

"I warned you, you filthy maggot!" it spat.

Merry let out a strangled cry as the orc uncoiled its whip and struck Pippin on the back. Merry fought relentlessly to free himself but he could not escape the crushing hold. He was taken deep into the woods and flung on the wet ground. Claws were all over his body, groping and tearing. White-hot pain entered his body as his softest tissues were sliced open and no matter how he shifted his body or what angle he was turned there was no escaping it. Over and over. His bottom was torn; his mouth was torn; but worst of all, his heart torn.

Merry's eyes opened as the burning in his lower body intensified. Nephril was pounding into him, still trying to fully impale the hobbit. He gritted his teeth as the man violated him. He could hear crunching and it dawned upon him the noise was from his breaking bones within his pelvis. The driving force of Nephril's thrusts were making his fragile bones crack.

Nephril groaned. "So nice and tight but your son was far more superior."

Merry yowled and collided the front of his skull with Nephril's. The man snarled at the pain and placed his hand on his Merry's head trying to keep another blow from hitting. With his back on the floor Merry gazed around for something, anything that would rid himself of man. The daggers were too far from his grasp but he saw an object far better. His hand crept near the fire as Nephril lowered his head, extending his tongue to lap at the hobbit's neck. 

"Just what are you planning on doing with a burning twig my little whore?" Nephril snickered. "Are you planning on burning me to death?"

"No, how could I possibly do that?" Merry admitted, moaning in pain. "But I do plan on doing this." 

By the time he caught sight of the burning twig it was too late for him to move. The hobbit drove it as far as he could into the man's eye, puncturing him. Nephril shrieked and fell back rolling around the floor. Merry sprang to his feet and cursed at the sharp agony in his bottom. He toppled over from the pain and wept into the floor. He removed the gag and breathed heavily. Placing one of his hands near his ravaged opening he felt a cool liquid flow onto his hand. Twisting around, he found his pants and pulled them back on knowing that the blood was all ready seeping through the material. 

Though in great misery from his wounds, the hobbit crawled away from the fire toward the opening of the cave. Glancing behind he found that Nephril was lying motionless. Satisfied he continued his journey into the darkness until he came into plain view of light of day. Finally, he was out of the cave and in the woods. Once more, he rose from the ground but fell yet again from the weakness in his legs.

Merry threw his head back while letting out a pained wail. Something sharp had pierced his lower back. Gazing behind he saw Nephril's ragged form hovering over him holding the butt end of a sword. His eye was shut but he could make a piece of the twig still lodged and showing over the eyelid. The man drew out the sword from Merry's body eliciting yet another strangled sob. Merry looked away as Nephril rose his sword and drove it into his back once more. Darkness was coming over him. The sword was taken out and he could feel the tip pressing on the nape of his neck. The blow never came. Nephril gave a startled cry and fell to the ground alongside Merry. A different sword had been driven into him.

Merry gazed up at his savior and smiled weakly.

More to follow.


	5. CH 5

"Elessar," Merry muttered weakly.

The king knelt to the ground and gently took the hobbit in his arms, cautious on where he touched him. "Men, light a fire and bring me several needles and yarn or string if there is any."

"Elessar, how did you find me?" Merry asked.

"Explanations can be saved for later dearest hobbit," Elessar said. "Time must be spent healing your wounds."

Merry shook his head. "No, please, just let me die. I can't stand living this anymore. Lay me back on the ground and allow me to bleed to death. I don't care anymore." Tremors enveloped his body as he sobbed. "I just want the pain to end."

"No, Merry," Elessar sternly replied. "I will not allow you to die in such a manner. The ordeal you went through was no doubt horrendous and it is obviously clouding your judgment. You have your son to think of. I thought you wanted to see him one last time?"

"What's the point?" Merry wailed. "He's like me now, defiled, dead inside and just waiting for the body to perish. But worse yet, it is my fault for the atrocity committed on him. I thought he would be safe in The Shire but I was wrong. It was my fault. I ruined him."

"Do not say such wicked things about yourself!" Elessar snapped. "I do not understand the situation in which you speak of your son but I suppose I shall learn more about it later."

"Nephril," Merry groaned.

"There is nothing to fear Merry," Elessar said. "That man won't be bothering anyone ever again."

A blanket was laid out on the ground and Elessar lowered Merry to it. Soft hands ran across his body, removing the tattered cloak and shirt. The instant cool air hit his bare flesh Merry began to thrash around. He could hear Elessar trying to soothe him with comforting words but he couldn't remain still. Several other hands griped his body and turned him over until his belly was pressing flat against the surface. Merry found himself flaying more madly as he felt fingers grazing across his wounds, exploring the depth of the cuts.

"Please, I beg of you Merry, hold still," Elessar commanded. "I am only trying to help you. I must examine your wounds before I can stitch them up."

"I all ready told you that I do not want your aid!" Merry screamed. "Let me pass away in peace!"

Elessar contemplated the situation and came up with only one solution. He pulled a small vial from his belt and handed it to one of the guards. "Take this and soak the liquid on one of the rags." Once the rag had been saturated the guard gave it back to the king. "This is a herb solution that will make you fall asleep and also help with pain."

"No!" Merry yelled. "Keep it away from me!"

"I'm sorry, Merry, but you leave me with no other choice," Elessar sighed, pressing the cloth against Merry's mouth and nose.

The hobbit jerked at the contact and tried to turn his head away but the grip of the man was too much for him. Merry cried into the rag as he inhaled the rising fumes. Within seconds he was sound asleep.

After several hours Merry regained consciousness. There was no more pain in his lower back but there was excruciating soreness around his bottom and pelvic region. A sharp pressure shot through him when he attempted to sit up. Muttering in frustration, he collapsed on the blanket face first. He gazed up at the night sky to find it covered in clouds, not a single star shining. The hobbit sighed when the king's hand touched his back and began massaging the sore muscles.

"I'm glad to see you are awake," Elessar said. "The surgery didn't take as long as I expected."

Merry frowned. "So what is wrong with me."

The fingers momentarily ceased but started over. "The wounds on your back were deep. I believe one of your organs may have been punctured but which one it could be I wasn't able to tell."

"Ho-how do you know for sure?" Merry asked.

"You were coughing up blood early," Elessar answered. "That is one of telltale signs."

"If one of my organs has indeed been cut into then why am I still alive?" Merry growled.

"It may not be as major as I thought," Elessar said. "But one thing is for sure, it will eventually kill you."

"Not soon enough," Merry grumbled. The hobbit decided to change the subject when noting a glassy tint in the king's eyes. "You still did not tell me how you came across me."

"When I saw that you were missing from the tower I assembled the guards and rode into the woods," Elessar said. "We had been searching for you for two days and had come across nothing. On the third day in mid afternoon we came across a woman on horseback. She told of us a small cave that she had gone by while riding. Apparently, she could see men in there carrying a small person, perhaps a hobbit. I went to check the cave out and when I returned to question her further she took off into the woods. I had several guards give chase but they were never able to catch her. Before she disappeared she threw away a small pouch."

Merry's eyes widened. "May I see that pouch?"

"Of course," Elessar replied.

The hobbit gazed over the brown pouch and opened up the string to view the contents. Sure enough, it was full of coins and now also contained a folded piece of paper. He took it out and read over it.

__

Dearest Merry,

I certainly hope you get a chance to read over this and if you don't oh well I suppose. It seemed I had a sudden change of heart when leaving you behind in the cave. You were such a nice creature and the thought of those men harming you was too much for me to bear. So, I hunted down the king and his men and led them to the cave. I only hope they were able to reach you in time before any major damage had been done to you. I'm not about to apologize though, even if you were tormented by those men, I have no reason to. It wasn't my fault if anything happened to you. But I do hope you're alive and well. Oh, I've also decided that I don't need the money Nephril gave me. It's far too tainted for me to keep. Perhaps you could find a better use for it. Maybe give it to your son for a present. Good luck to you on your journey Merry. I can guarantee that our paths will not cross again. 

Bremusa

Merry folded the paper back up and returned it to the pouch. "A gift from someone I knew for a bit."

"Oh," Elessar nodded.

Merry ran the pouch through his fingers. "Nephril told me that he had ventured into The Shire. He even told me that he managed to find my son and....raped him. You have seen images through the Palantir. Why did you not bother telling me of these events?"

"Merry, I do not seek the Palantir's images every single day of the week at every passing hour," Elessar growled. "There are times where months have gone by and I do not look. If indeed such a tragedy has befallen your family then they do not show it. The last I saw of them was four days ago. Your son, Pippin, was out gathering vegetables with his surrogate parents. They appeared happy enough. Did you ever consider that those men were lying, only wishing to hurt you further?"

"I considered it," Merry said, "but Nephril knew the color of Pippin's eyes. How could he have known that without every coming into contact with the boy?"

"I wish I knew," Elessar murmured. "We will find out if the men spoke truthfully."

Merry glanced at him with watery eyes. "You mean?"

"Yes, I will help you reach The Shire," Elessar said. "I realize that it is dangerous, especially with the condition of your wound, but do I have any other choice? You will not last in this world much longer; I accept that, so I will make sure you reach home to find your son."

"Thank you Elessar for your eternal kindness," Merry said. "And please forgive me for the outbursts."

"There is no reason to apologize Merry," Elessar spoke. "You have been through an unimaginable hell."

"I think I would like to take a bath if possible?" Merry inquired.

Elessar shook his head. "I would recommend that you take it at a later time. I cleaned and applied herbs to your opening. I fear that it was torn badly from Nephril's ministrations and even the gentlest of touches could cause further bleeding. Also, it appears as if certain areas of your pelvis have been broken. If you get up it would cause you a great deal of pain."

"I will risk it," Merry stuttered. "But, please, help me get on my feet. I have such a hard time standing."

"As you wish Merry," Elessar mumbled.

The king took the hobbits arm and eased him off the ground. Merry teetered and nearly fell over but was able to take hold of Elessar's arm. He was led to a nearby stream where a set of fresh clothes was waiting for him.

"I brought them from your knapsack," Elessar said. "There is soap around if you want it. If you need assistance, at any time, feel free to call out. I won't be far away."

"Thank you, thank you," Merry sniffled. "I need to be alone for a bit, if you understand me."

"I do," Elessar whispered. "I'll be around and remember, take care of how you scrub yourself and keep your back from being submerged. The stitching is still healing over the flesh. Also, I cannot allow you stay in long. You still have pneumonia."

Once the king had left Merry stripped from his ragged clothing and tossed the dirty linen aside. He stepped into the water not caring that the cold temperature stabbed at his flesh. He continued in until the water reached around his waist and immediately began to rub the bar of soap all over his body but he only seemed to concentrate on one area. The tender, ripped flesh was scrubbed until he could feel fresh blood gushing and mingling into the stream water. Even with the pain, he still scrubbed away with ferocity. No matter how hard he scrubbed with the soap the dirt still lingered on his battered body. 

For what seemed hours to him, he scrubbed away, still focusing on the one area. He barely noticed when a form came up from behind, lifted him out of the water, and wrapped him in a warm blanket. His body became limp and he allowed Elessar to carry him out, his legs becoming drenched in the water. Once on land Merry buried his face into the king's shoulder and wept bitterly. Elessar sat on the ground, hugged the hobbit close to him, and placed tiny kisses on his forehead. He tenderly cradled Merry and rocked him until the hobbit fell into peaceful sleep.

More to follow.


	6. CH 6

For days Merry had traveled alongside Elessar through sun and rain, despite the raw pain of his backside. A number of guards rode with them, taking the rear while their king rode in front with Merry. At certain intervals the party had to stop to allow the hobbit a moments rest from the saddle. Embarrassment crept over Merry every time he had to take a break. He knew the guards were complaining to Elessar; whining about how they could reach the destination a lot sooner if the hobbit wouldn't waste so much time sitting around. He also knew that a few in the bunch were sniggering about his 'internal wound', which only increased the humility. How they found out about his ravaged and raped body was beyond him. He had only told Elessar about what had taken place in the cave. 

Nestled against a trunk, Merry took to gazing about the cloudless sky. It was his only escape from the argument proceeding behind him. The guards were in an uproar again, though, more infuriated then normal.

"We cannot waste our time taking a hobbit all the way around Middle-earth just to reunite him with a son," one of the guards grumbled.

Merry turned to look over the guard. He recognized the man to be Coronus, Captain of the Guard. In the past he had encountered the guard and the memories were far from pleasant. Coronus was one of the few that tried to convince Elessar not to let him stay in the tower, saying it was not fit nor proper for a hobbit to live there. The man hated him and Merry returned the sentiment.

"I'll be the judge of that," Elessar snarled. "Who are you to question me, your king?"

"I mean you no disrespect my liege," Coronus bowed, his dark brown eyes focusing on Merry, "but I worry about our kingdom. It is unwise for you to leave this realm. Gondor needs a king to rule over it."

"Someone is substituting for me and I'm certain they will do a fine job," Elessar noted.

"Yes, you left everything in command of a woman who is an elf for that matter," Coronus snarled. "A human male is only fit to rule here."

"Once more, you insist on questioning not only my authority but also my decisions Coronus," Elessar snapped. "I shall have to remove your title and banish you from Minas Tirith."

"You cannot do that!" Coronus yelled.

"Oh, yes, I can," Elessar said. "You make light of my dear friend's predicament and you insult your queen, my beloved wife, right in front of me. I also know what you have been up to for the past seven days. You speak to other guards behind my back and tell them lies. It has come to my attention that you have spread a secret about the hobbit that I told you in confidence. Every one of the guards knows it and that has brought shame to my friend. You're lucky I don't put you to the sword at this moment."

"If there is any shame over his head, it's by his doing," Coronus snorted.

"No, Coronus, it's by your doing," Elessar said with a threatening tone. "How stupid do you believe me to be? I know of the role you played in Merry's escape from the tower."

"But King Elessar he never helped me," Merry interrupted. "I escaped on my own."

"Oh, but he did help you Merry you just didn't see it," Elessar sneered. "I was informed by one of my more faithful guards how you snooped around and told the others to let Merry out of the city, stating that it was by my orders. You are the reason for all this recent grief over Merry's head, only because you wanted him out of the tower." The king stood tall over the man and ordered him with a powerful tone. "There is no place for ones such as you within the guard. Your title has been revoked therefore you are longer Captain of the Guard. For now, you remain with us until we reach The Shire. Once returned to the city you shall stand trial before me and the council to receive your fair punishment."

"Why don't you banish me now?" Coronus asked. "If am I not a guard then what is the point of me staying?"

"Because I do not trust you," Elessar replied, stepping away from the man. "I doubt you would return to Minas Tirith if ordered. As for the rest of you, you shall stop this nonsense. The subject has been dropped."

Merry sighed in relief as the guards resumed their normal activities, speaking of loved ones and future plans. Only Coronus stayed in place, still in shock and denial over what had taken place. His fierce gaze shifted onto Merry, sending a shiver down the hobbit's spine. In the corner of his eye, Merry saw Elessar mount his horse and limped from the spot to do the same on his pony. Again, he could hear the guards snickering as he attempted to mount the steed. It was more then difficult given the nature of his injuries. A different guard bolted over and gave the hobbit a hand. Merry smiled at the guard when he recognized him as an old friend, made on his first day entering the tower nearly twenty years ago.

"Good to see you Markus," Merry said. "I wish it could be under better circumstances. It has been a long time since we chatted last."

"Good to see you too Merry," Markus chirped, beginning to back away. "Any time you need a hand make sure to call out for me. I won't be far behind. Perhaps, later, we could catch up for old time sake. I must ride in the back. Oh, and don't pay any heed to my brother, Coronus. He talks well enough but I doubt he would ever act out. I apologize."

"It's not your fault how your brother acts," Merry said, waving at the man. "I would like to talk later also."

The party traveled through the woods finally emerging in the fields of Rohan. The vast landscape brought back distant memories to Merry. He began to reminiscence about the days that he had marched side by side with Theoden. It brought back happiness yet sadness at the same time. It had been a long time since those days and the end of his time was quickly coming.

Nightfall fell upon the land and camp was set up bordering the woods. Merry sat beside Elessar and Markus.

"I must go into the wood to search for athelas," Elessar said. "The pouch I carry is running low."

"Is it really necessary?" Merry whimpered.

"Yes, I fear so, considering the fact that your wounds could become infected," Elessar answered. "The last thing I want is for you to become ill and there not be enough herbs to cure you. Do not fear. I will take a small portion of the troop to lend a hand and Markus will stay here with you."

"What about Coronus?" Markus inquired.

"He will stay here," Elessar said. "Keep a watchful eye on him."

"Yes my lord," Markus replied.

The king stood from the ground and beckoned a few guards to his side. Merry turned back to Markus to talk about the old days they had shared in the tower. The instant Elessar disappeared Coronus inched toward him, disrupting their conversation.

"I must say, that it really is such a disgrace what happened to you," Coronus said, eyes glassy.

"Thank you for your concern," Merry snarled, trying to back away. Coronus' hand stretched out, trailing over Merry's smaller one. The hobbit gazed into the man's eyes and gasped. "Good God man you're drunk!"

"So what?" Coronus chuckled. "That no good king will never notice. He's become so senile that he can't even notice when one of his men have been drinking."

"For shame Coronus!" Markus bellowed. "A guard of Minas Tirith would never bring such dishonor on his unit such as this! The king probably didn't notice because you were sneaking in and out of the woods! Don't tell me you've been hiding wine in the water pouch again?!"

"Please, I'm no longer a member of the unit remember?" Coronus growled lowly. "And it's all thanks to this wonderful little hobbit."

Merry shuddered and crawled away until his back pressed on Markus' forearm. He knew the tint glowing in the man's eyes all too well. The man reached for Merry's face but Markus shot up and gripped the other's hand tightly.

"I think you need to sleep it off," Markus snarled. "Preferably someplace a great distance from us."

"Aw I'm sorry," Coronus said, jerking his hand away and giving it a good rub. "I'll leave you be."

The man staggered to his feet and entered the wood.

"My brother the ass," Markus groaned.

"So I'm not the only one who feels that way about him," Merry laughed.

"Yes, you of all people should know how I feel about my low-life of a brother," Markus said. "I suppose in a way this turn of event is good. How my brother ever managed to get a high position is beyond me. Then again, he was employed back in Denethor's days. When Elessar took the throne he kept the guard as they were."

"I wish I understood why he despises me so much," Merry muttered. "What did I ever do to him?"

"Nothing," Markus answered. "Coronus hates almost everything so it's not just you. Why, he even hates me, his own brother."

Merry cried out when he saw a shadow loom over the soldier. By the time Markus turned it was too late for him to move. The butt end of a sword struck the man across the head. Markus fell flaccidly to the grass from the force of the blow. Coronus emerged from the darkness glaring menacingly at the hobbit.

"Hello again little hobbit," Coronus laughed. He strode toward the quivering form. "I believe you and I have unfinished business."

"So, you plan on killing me?" Merry said.

"I was contemplating that but I figured death would be too great for you," Coronus laughed. "No, I had to think up a way that would cause you the most agony and I have the perfect thing. Tell me, when that man took you did you enjoy it?" Merry's eyes went wide. "I guess that's my answer."

For a moment each stood perfectly still in the firelight. The hobbit turned his head to seek aid from the other guards but they had vanished from sight. He pondered on the idea of running but in his feeble condition he wouldn't get far before being tackled to the ground. He had only one option.

"Elessar!" Merry screamed. "Eles--"

A hand wrapped tightly around his neck while the other drew back to deliver a harsh slap to the side of Merry's cheek. The hobbit howled and tried to shield his face by placing his hands in the way. The blows continued to descend on him, knocking his hands out of the way leaving his face at the mercy of the man. His head snapped back and forth as the hand grazed across his flesh. Blood was trickling down the edge of his lips and his cheeks were becoming puffy. The violence momentarily stopped.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Merry sobbed.

"You ruined my life," Coronus growled. "And I hate hobbits. You filthy creatures have no place in Gondor. But most of all, I hate you because from the first moment I laid eyes on you I knew I must have you. Such a pretty thing. For years, it drove me crazy watching you move all over the tower and not being able to get you. When I saw you trying to leave I thought it would be best to help you out. After all, I wanted to get rid of you and what better way. But now, everything has changed. I was forced to march with Elessar and search for you. I can't fight it any longer."

"You're insane!" Merry screeched. This was an unexpected turn of events and didn't like it one bit. "Get off me at once! You are drunk you idiot! You don't know what you are doing! Stop before you regret it!"

"Don't fight me little one," Coronus scowled. "This could get a lot worse for you if you so choose. But I think you could learn to enjoy it."

"No, please, don't!" Merry cried as the man yanked his pants down. "Stop, it could kill me!"

"Do I look like I care hobbit?" Coronus yelled.

Merry felt himself being turned on his belly and hindquarters positioned in the air. It was going to happen all over again. He waited for the inevitable.

*

When Merry's eyes opened he gazed about the landscape in confusion. It was still nightfall but Coronus was no where in sight. To his left he found Elessar, crouching over him. Humility crashed over him when he realized that the king must have found him with Coronus.

"How much did you see?" Merry asked weakly.

"I do not follow," Elessar said.

"Coronus," Merry whispered.

"Coronus is long gone," Elessar replied. "At hearing your cry I ran from the woods and found him hovering over your unconscious form. When I approached him he became even more agitated and it was obvious at that point he wasn't going to relinquish his hold on you without a fight. I had to dispose of him; there was no other alternative. But I fear that was eight days ago. We've managed to travel over The Gap of Rohan. "

"Eight days?!" Merry bellowed.

"Yes, he struck you in the back of the head," Elessar replied. "The wound was terrible and became infected, which only made matters worse. It's a miracle you've woken up at all given your other injuries."

"I could have sworn I was still back there with him," Merry sighed, massaging his temple. "I was dreaming of him....Was he doing anything to me when you found him?" Elessar eyes darkened with sorrow. "So it wasn't just a dream. Well, at least I was out cold for the last part of it." 

He shuddered at the images racing through his mind. He could only imagine the look on the king's face, and his troops for that matter, when they emerged from the woods to find the man abusing him. Heat rose to his cheeks and he fought back the tears that forming over his eyelids, threatening to spill. He wiped at them furiously.

"I'm afraid so," Elessar muttered. "He's damaged you insides further. I do not know if you will be able to ride without assistance. I've been carrying you on my horse for the past few days. But I'm sure Markus would help lend a hand if any were needed."

"He's all right then?" Merry beamed, trying to change the subject. "He received such an awful blow."

"Of course," Elessar chuckled. "Markus is a hardy fellow and it will take more then that to keep him down. You will see him later but for now he is on watch." He grew stern. The hobbit shifted in his seat uneasily when he realized what the man was going to speak of. "I am so sorry for what has happened to you Merry. I should never have left Coronus in the camp with you. How I could have made such a dreadful error is beyond me."

"It wasn't your fault," Merry cried. "Believe me, the man probably would have gotten to me eventually. He's had it planned out for some time now I think. No one could have stopped it." He wiped at his eyes. "I want to talk about something more cheerful. Is there any good news you could tell me about?"

"But Merry it is unwise to keep all these emotions pent up inside," Elessar said. "I can see it's starting to take its toll on you again. You really must speak about it, to get it off your chest. You do not have to feel ashamed for the acts committed against you. No one is judging you. You must speak."

Merry choked on a sob. "I know, I know. I just...I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm not comfortable speaking of such matters to anyone. Perhaps some other time but I just need to talk about something else. I need to get my mind off of it."

The king groaned but didn't press the issue. "I do have a bit of good news for you. A messenger has from The Shire. He was able to find the Smallburrows and give them word of our arrival. Also, he's given news of someone traveling to meet us somewhere between Gwathlo` river or the Brandywine. In about three days, depending upon weather, we will be meeting Sam."

Merry's eyes brightened. "Sam?! I thought he would have sailed to the Grey Havens years ago."

"Apparently not," Elessar answered. "Keep in mind though that it may take longer than normal to reach the river. Not only do we have to watch the weather but your injuries as well."

"Yes," Merry said.

A smile formed over his face. The darkness and sorrow over his heart momentarily lifted and the events of the past week drifted from thought. He was going to see his dear, old friend again. Sam.

More to follow. 


	7. CH 7

Merry groaned as he lowered himself to the ground. The small company had been riding for three days. Even with the companionship of Elessar and Markus it did little to improve his mood. The wounds on his body were becoming worse, all ready showing the signs of spreading infection. Even the knife wounds on his back, sewn shut, were beginning to ooze and crack open around the sides. Pneumonia was still racking through him, causing his strength to diminish further. He hardly slept due to the pain. He was also unable to lie on the ground due to his reduced lungs that had him hacking nearly every minute. The herbs were no longer relieving his body of the ales that plagued him. 

Elessar was soon seated beside him in the grass. Merry couldn't muster the courage to gaze up at him. The hobbit knew the king could sense his approaching fate and he didn't have the stamina to discuss it. Merry curled into a ball and closed his eyes, attempting to find rest. As usual, he found none.

The next morning Merry awoke to Elessar shaking his shoulder. The amount of sleep was meager, leaving him in a rotten mood. The hobbit shot the king an irritated look, which turned to one of confusion as the man took off the stand over the edge of a hill. Though in pain Merry forced himself to stand and stretched out the cramps in his legs. He walked to Elessar's side and glanced up at the king's face.

"What is it?" Merry asked. "Are there enemies heading for us?"

"Look over that hill," Elessar replied. "Someone approaches but they are not the enemy."

Merry did so. The morning sun was peaking over the valley, shining its warm rays upon the company. Ahead the Gwathlo` river gleamed like tiny crystals in the light and just a ways from the bridge the hobbit could make out an object moving down the hill. He squinted his eyes to gain a better view over the blinding rays when he emitted a loud gasp. The figure was in plain view now. It was Sam.

Forgetting his injuries Merry took off down the hill nearly tumbling down from the steep drop. Behind him he the voice of Elessar sounded, calling the hobbit back in fear of straining himself. Merry ignored the pleas and continued down the small slope until he was flat on the ground in the fields. He continued to sprint through the massive growth, pushing any foliage aside. Emerging from the meadow he stepped onto the wooden bridge and fell back in alarm when he nearly crashed into a pony. A loud thud echoed as his back struck the planks. For a moment he remained still moaning in slight pain. He could feel a form hovering over him, lifting him from the ground to his feet.

"My, my that was a nasty tumble you took," Sam said. "You ought to be more careful in the future or you could truly harm yourself."

Merry wept at the sight of him. "Oh Sam. I'm so happy to see you again."

"And I you, you silly hobbit," Sam cried, embracing the other tightly. "It has been far too long since our last meeting."

"If only we were meeting under better circumstances," Merry muttered.

"Come now, let us not speak of it for the moment anyway," Sam said. "Let's return to where the king and his men have camped. Hop on. We'll both ride up the hill together." The hobbit helped Merry mount the pony before taking his place behind." You appear quite ill. I'm sure he will not pleased with you bolting away as you did."

"I doubt he'll care much," Merry chuckled. "It feels good to be in your presence again."

The two traveled up the hill where they received a warm greeting from Elessar. Meals were served during which Sam told Elessar and Merry of his journey through The Shire. Afterward a separate fire was made and the two hobbits circled it while the king prepared herbs for Merry's treatment. Sam gazed intently on the boiling herbs but chose to speak about other issues.

"You'll be happy to know nothing has changed much in The Shire, save a few more trees growing here and there," Sam said. "Most of the land has been restored to its former beauty though it took long enough. It's a shame that certain matters can't be repaired over night." He shook his head. "Speaking of which, I suppose you'll want to hear about your son?"

"Very much so," Merry replied. "I have heard things, transactions, that may have taken place in Crickhollow; deeds that may have taken place with Pippin. Do you know of what I speak?"

Sam lowered his head. "I fear so. Are you certain you want me to speak of such affairs here?" Merry nodded. "A few weeks after you left men emerged frequently in our land, searching for you. Unfortunately, word of mouth gets around and they learned of your travels to Minas Tirith. For a time they vanished and nothing more was thought on the matter. Months later I was trekking through The Shire to make my annual stop at Crickhollow to visit the Smallburrows when the oddest thing happened. It was near dawn when three men raced down the path nearly trampling me with their horses. For some reason or another they appeared to be in a big hurry to leave the area. Within the hour I reached the house to find poor Nad lying in the mud from the fresh rains while dear Poppy was trying to crawl out the door. Both were securely tied and badly beaten. Poppy begged me to go inside, to check on their son, and what I found was most horrifying. I won't even dare go into detail about what the repulsive acts that had been inflicted upon the poor lad. Somehow, even with the extent of his wounds, he survived due to Mr. Brombleburr. A few more months went by and everything went back to normal, as normal as everything could be. The Smallburrows are doing very well, especially Pippin. They've managed to put the incident behind them and move on in life. You'll be happy to know that Pippin has grown up to become an outstanding young hobbit."

"I must know Sam," Merry said. "Did those men...take Pippin?"

Sam blinked at him. "I do not understand." Then, realization dawned on him. "That?! Good heavens no! Mind you, the lad was definitely tortured but not that extent. No, he was never defiled in that manner."

"Then what did they do to him?" Merry asked.

"This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it," Sam snapped, gazing about the staring men. "The boy was beaten, tortured for information on your whereabouts. That's all there is to it, there isn't anymore. Why? What thoughts were placed in your head to make you think otherwise?"

"Something someone once told me," Merry sighed. "Apparently, all that was said were mostly lies. I have been beating myself over lies, though there isn't much comfort in what you have told me. My son was still harmed due to the actions I took in life. It's all because of me that he has been wounded."

"I wish you wouldn't say things such as that," Sam pleaded. "It wasn't by your hand that Pippin was injured. His wounds have long since healed."

"I doubt that," Merry retorted. He wiped at his eyes. "I guess there is no point in pressing this issue. I never could win an argument with you Sam. Tell me, what else has transpired in The Shire. I hope to hear good things."

"In good time," Elessar interrupted. "I'm sure you two can pick up on the conversation later. I must place herbs on your wounds Merry to help fight the infection."

"Wounds? What wounds?" Sam inquired, looking over Merry's body. "Where and how did he manage to get injuries?"

Before Merry could react Elessar had unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it from his shoulders. He grimaced at the face Sam made as his pale back was exposed to light. The stitching was dribbling pus and the flesh around the area was turning shades of yellow and dark red. The moment Elessar applied the ointment Merry let out a loud yelp and jerked away. Sam was immediately at his side holding him in place. Sweat was sliding down the hobbit's forehead as he squirmed madly. Merry's eyes rolled in the back of his head and he passed out, nestled in the other hobbit's arms. When finished Sam turned to the king.

"There is dried blood at the bottom of his pants," Sam murmured. "I think I all ready know what has taken place here. Those men that attacked the Smallburrows, were they the same ones that did this to him?" 

Elessar nodded. "Fear not though. The men that haunted him have been taken care of, as well as the last one that assaulted him."

Sam gazed at him in disbelief. "He was attacked on a separate occasion? What a turn of bad luck that has befallen him. I sometimes wonder if he, or the rest of us for that matter, will ever find peace in this world."

"Come, help me carry him in the privacy of the woods," Elessar said. "I must tend to his other injury and I will need your assistance. If he wakes up he will not take kindly to the sight of me treating him. I dread to gaze upon it, in fear of what the infection has done." 

"How long do you give him?" Sam asked.

Elessar ran his hands through Merry's drenched curls. "No more then a week, perhaps even less. There is nothing more I can do for him, except making him comfortable as possible. All treatments are failing and the infection will soon turn to a fever. The pneumonia isn't helping the situation either. Travel must be quick from now on."

Merry was carried into the brush.

Late in the afternoon Merry awoke from his slumber in less pain then he had been in. He smiled warmly at Sam, seated next to him and smoking from his pipe. The hobbits resumed their earlier conversation about The Shire and even reminisced about the old days until the sun began to set from the sky. The king beckoned them to join him near the fire.

"My friends, though I have enjoyed being in your presence I must inform you of my departure in the morning," Elessar said. "I am no longer needed here nor my troops. Sam shall be your guide the rest of the way home."

"But I thought you would join us in The Shire!" Merry wailed.

"No, I'm afraid not," Elessar answered. "I have responsibilities and my place is back within my kingdom of Gondor. For now, rest and we shall talk things over more before my departure in the morning."

The hobbits returned to their bedrolls as the king also turned in. Merry closed his eyes and managed to find a moments rest.

In the middle of the night Merry woke in a cold sweat. He drew himself out of the roll and skulked near the edge of the hill, gazing over the darkened land. Warmth came over him as he felt an arm drape over his shoulder.

"You should be back in bed," Sam grumbled. "It's not good for your health."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Merry sighed. "You should know that by now."

"Aye, that may be but I still don't like seeing you this way," Sam replied. "It would set my mind at ease if you returned to bed, where it's warm."

"In a minute," Merry muttered. "I just wanted to see the land near The Shire again. It's been so long since I have seen it last." He turned to Sam. "I'm curious, what are you still doing here? I assumed that you would sailed to the Havens by now."

"It's simple, hasn't been my time to leave yet," Sam said, "though that is changing. For some time now I can hear whispers from the sea calling to me and I have been tempted to answer them but I couldn't go. Every time I thought of the notion of leaving a strange feeling came over me, like something had been left unfinished. I still have a role to play here on Middle-earth and I'm not leaving until I've finished it. Now, enough talk. I'll help you return to bed."

More to follow.


	8. CH 8

The night slipped away with the passing dawn but the sky didn't remain vivid for long. Dark clouds were forming over the horizon, slowly drowning out the sun until the clouds were illuminated red and orange from the cracks between. Merry was the first up in the camp and he gazed at the fading morning with unease. For another hour he stayed in place under the tree, barely moving, as if entranced by the billowing clouds overhead. Cramps were spreading through his back and his hand clasped at the wounds in attempt to massage the spasm. No relief came from his efforts and he slumped against the tree trunk in defeat. He was drowsy again but he wouldn't allow his eyes to shut being so late in the sunup. All ready the men of the camp were stirring from slumber and the king was the first to rise over them. The hobbit glanced down at his companion and stretched out his hand to gently nudge him awake. As his hand touched Sam's soft locks he suddenly had a chance of heart and drew his hand away. He would allow the other hobbit a few more moments of rest, however short it may be.

When all had woken breakfast was cooked and served. Although the men openly chatted with one another Elessar, Merry, and Sam were silent. Occasionally the three would look at each other but neither could speak what was on their mind for the time being. With the meals finished Elessar addressed the two hobbits.

"I hope you forgive me my friends but as I stated earlier I must return to my kingdom," Elessar said. "How I wish I could journey further with you for the idea of leaving you two alone does not appeal to me but my realm calls me and I must heed it." His hand griped Merry's shoulder. "Sam is with you now and I know he will watch over you with a careful eye."

"Two eyes," Sam smirked.

Merry looped his hand around the larger one of the king's. "Are you certain you must return so soon?"

"I'm afraid so little one," Elessar sighed. "Know that if I could travel further with you I would do so without hesitation but I am needed in Gondor and I cannot ignore my duty as its king."

Merry nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "I understand."

At that moment Elessar and Merry locked in a tight embrace, both leery of letting go, for they knew in their hearts that this would be their last encounter. The king lowered his head lowered his head to the hobbit's ear and whispered. No knew of what they spoke but it seemed to make Merry's face brighten with sheer joy. Finally, the king and hobbit released their hold. Markus was the next to wrap his arms around Merry and the hobbit returned the hug with equal ferocity.

"You were a dear friend to me Merry in those long twenty years," Markus said. "I will remember you always, little one."

A smile formed over Merry's face as he glanced from the king to the guard. "Your words give me comfort and for a short while the darkness over my heart will be lifted."

The king took Sam aside while Merry and Markus were still locked together. Once near the edge of camp Elessar embraced Sam. "Watch over him well Sam because you are all he has left for now. I will give you a bag of athelas even though I doubt it will do much good for him. His wounds are far beyond my expertise. Only the Elves could have possibly saved him, though this extent of damage may have been out of their hands too, but alas we will never know for all have sailed beyond the sea. I can also sense despair and weariness rising in his heart. Be cautious. He's a hobbit with a strong will no doubt but you, most of all, know that even he can snap when emotions overwhelm him."

Sam shuddered at the thought. The memory of the incident in Bree was still fresh in his mind. "I promise to look after him with extra care. How could I not? We have been chums as far back as I can remember; though at times he's more like a brother to me. The poor hobbit has been through enough at the hands of evil and I will not allow anything else to happen to him, even if it means the end of my life just to protect him."

Elessar grimaced. "I sincerely hope it will not come to that. No, I doubt it will. You are near the Shire now and should return to Crickhollow safely without anyone hassling you."

Sam shrugged. "Yes, I suppose. The only thing we'll have to watch out for is the land and weather. It's the rainy season and several of the rivers have been flooding nearby."

The king and hobbit returned to the center of the camp where Merry was waiting. Elessar mounted his horse and the other men did the same. He turned back to the hobbits.

"Farewell my dear friends!" he cried. "May the rest of your trip home be a safe one and may you find what you are searching for. I will forget you not, Merry and Sam, nor your family. Farewell!"

With that the king turned, spurred his horse, and took off down the trail.

Merry fought the urge to run after him and instead waved to him. "Farwell my king! Thank you for all you have done for me! I am eternally grateful for your kindness! Good-bye!"

The entire camp followed behind their king leaving the two hobbits to stare in awe as the group slowly vanished in the woods. Elessar was the first to disappear but before he did the man raised his hand into the air and gave one last wave. With the men out of sight Sam placed his hand over Merry's arm.

"I suppose it's time for us to be moving on," Sam sighed. He led two ponies by the reins. "We still have a long trek ahead of us to Crickhollow. It's at least a two to three day travel to the Brandywine River."

Merry wiped at the tears seeping down his chin. "Of course Sam, just give me a minute to gather my wits."

"Certainly, Merry, take all the time you need," Sam said.

When calmed Merry mounted one of the steeds and when Sam had done the same the two descended upon the hill. The hobbits gave one final glance to the wood behind them, the spot where they had last seen King Elessar. Both heart and mind were filled with grief.

The day had worn on and the sky had begun to darken. Clouds were still moving in the black sky and it appeared as if more were forming, threatening to bring rain along with it. Camp was set up in a small clearing. Sam created a small fire and rummaged through his pack to pull out tiny cookware. Supper consisted of a small stew with a fragment of bread, neither of which Merry ate. He allowed it sit on his plate while he poked at it with the fork. Appetite was another thing that fading in his body.

"Eat," Sam sternly said. "You're becoming thin and I'll have none of it. If you wish to keep your strength you must eat. I realize I may not be the greatest cook but..."

"No, it's not that," Merry interrupted. "It just, well, I have a lot on my mind right now."

"What sort of thing, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam asked.

"Everything Sam," Merry said. "Everything." The hobbit poked a little more at his food before taking a bite. Merry choked as he attempted to gulp it down. For some reason he was having problems swallowing and a wave of nausea was forming in his gut. "If you don't mind Sam I think I'll turn in a bit early tonight."

"But you've barely touched your supper," Sam said.

"I don't feel well Sam," Merry replied. "I fear if I was to eat any more that I would be retching in the grass."

"Very well," Sam muttered, "but in the morning you will have breakfast."

Merry sighed and turned toward his bedroll. He positioned himself as comfortably as he could and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would follow.

In the morning Merry could smell the smoke from a fire grazing across his nostrils along with the scent of crackling meat. He threw the covers off and rose from the bed, stretching. Sam smiled at him and motioned for him to sit near the flames. Merry suddenly winced at the stabbing pain in his gut and fell back to the ground. In an instant Sam was at his side.

"Whatever is the matter?" Sam yelled.

"My abdomen, it burns," Merry squeaked. "I feel....I feel...."

His hand clasped over his mouth and he crawled a few feet from Sam before vomiting onto the ground. When he reopened his eyes the sight horrified him. He had expected to find remnants of supper from the previous night but instead all he found was liquid, red, staining the grass beneath him. The tips of his fingers drew to his lips and he wiped at some of the residue still remaining. Gazing at his fingertips he saw that they too were covered with blood. He glanced back at Sam who was staring wide eyed at him.

"Oh Sam," Merry whimpered. "What is happening to me?"

"It must be your wounds," Sam stuttered. "You must have internal bleeding; there's no doubt about it."

The hobbit ran to the pony and packed a few items, leaving most of the heavy ones behind. Sam hauled Merry into his arms as best he could and mounted the pony. When Merry was secure in his arms Sam spurred the steed until it took off at top speed into the vast meadow.

"What are you doing Sam?" Merry asked

"We have to make haste," Sam answered. "Your injuries are far greater then I anticipated. We ride nonstop if we can manage. I know of an inn near the outskirts of The Shire called Willowcreek. There, we can rest for a little bit and obtain a new pony for the rest of the way home." He gazed at Merry's uncertain face. "Do not worry Merry. I promised to watch out for you and return you home safely and I have yet to break a promise."

Merry groaned while looking at the landscape in the distance. Home seemed so far away and he had so little time.

More to follow.


	9. CH 9

Two days had long since passed from the retreat of the Gwathlo' River. The trip had been strenuous on Merry for they had only made two rest stops in that time period and prepared small portions of food. Merry could hear Sam's stomach growling from time to time and even he found himself craving food. Both were being driven on without adequate amounts of nourishment and sleep. 

It was now mid-afternoon but rain clouds were still increasing in the sky, blocking out the sun, but even that didn't decrease the temperature of the land. Autumn was muggy and the heat made the journey less then comfortable for the two travelers. Every minute Merry was shifting in the saddle in hopes of finding a better position, one that wouldn't irritate his raw backside.

"How much longer till we reach The Shire?" Merry asked. "I feel as if all this riding will drive me mad."

"Not far, not far," Sam answered. "We should reach The Willowcreek Inn at nightfall."

"I have never heard of that place," Merry said. "What is it like?"

"I suppose you wouldn't, since it's fairly new," Sam replied. "It was only built about three years back. The place is quite similar to The Prancing Pony; it harbors men and hobbits. Willowcreek has a good reputation though there are occasional fights amongst the guests but that happens everywhere. I've stayed there one night and feel it's as safe a place as any. Once there maybe we could even look into finding a doctor to tend to your wounds."

Merry shook his head. "I doubt one would be of any use to me Sam. Elessar has treated to my wounds the best he could and he is far greater then any common doctor. There's nothing more that can be done."

A silence came over them. Sam averted his gaze from the other hobbit and went back to staring at the horizon. Merry closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into Sam's shoulder, trying to find rest. He went into deep sleep.

__

Darkness swirled around his eyes and for a brief moment he was frightened but all was quickly washed away. He was no longer in a haze but back in The Shire; he could recognize the old orchard that he once played in. All was beautiful around him but he caught a far prettier sight. A young hobbit emerged from brush, long brown curls falling down her back, and deep hazel eyes shining.

"Estella," Merry muttered.

The hobbit giggled and disappeared back into the brush. With a cry Merry chased after her, calling her name, pleading with her to come back. She only turned her head to stick her tongue out at him and picked up the pace. Merry stopped dead in his tracks when he came upon a small clearing, bearing the tall tree where he had buried his beloved wife and cousin but the tombstones were no where in sight. Instead, he found Estella slumped against the tree smiling warmly at him.

"Estella, my love, is that truly you?" Merry asked, taking small, cautious steps toward her.

She laughed. "Of course it is me you foolish hobbit! My, my, are you becoming as dimwitted as your cousin Pippin? Come here and give your wife a hug!"

Merry ran to her side and buried his face in the crook of her neck, sobbing as he clung to her. The familiar scent of lilacs filled his nostrils, her old perfume, and the silky skin caressed his cheek. Soft hands ran across the back of his head in a soothing manner. He could hear her speaking to him but the words went over his head. He was too caught up in the moment to pay any heed to what she was saying. His entire body suddenly jerked in fright when another set of hands griped his shoulders tightly.

"Hope I didn't scare you too badly, cousin."

More tears spilled down his reddened cheeks. "Pippin!" Nothing had changed on the other hobbit, still appearing as young as the day he had been buried. "Pippin."

"Aye, tis me Merry," Pippin said.

A smile formed over Merry's face. "I'm finally at peace." The grins on Pippin and Estella's face vanished, leaving them with darkened features. Merry's joy also faded. "What is wrong?"

"Your time is not over yet," Pippin said. "The only reason you have been brought here was to heed a warning. Danger is still ahead of Merry and if you are not careful you shall fall, along with Sam."

"I do not understand!" Merry spat, anger swelling inside of him. "I am only here to receive such a frivolous statement?! Why do you do this to me! Every night I see the both of you yet I can never reach you! This is torture beyond anything else I have suffered!"

"Do not take the warning so lightly Merry," Pippin growled. "Men aren't the only danger that lies ahead at your destination. Although I hate saying it, you can not only be a hazard to yourself but others as well. You must be careful of your own actions or it may be Sam that will be the one to pay."

"I do not understand!" Merry wailed.

Pippin sighed. "You will in time sweet cousin. I know this isn't the best route to give you information but I can't stand to see you in any more pain, yet I know more will be coming very soon. I only wish to help you and this is the only way I know how. You all ready know that time is running short and if you do not make it Crickhollow then I fear that you will never find peace, for too much would be left undone and your soul will be heavy and torn. Choose your path carefully Merry and I would advise you not to do anything foolish though I doubt you'll listen, you never had. The past few weeks have been an example to that." Hands shook at Merry's shoulders. "Now wake up and remember what I have said!"

Merry's eyes flew open to find Sam looming over him, shaking him gently. "We are here Merry. We've finally arrived to Willowcreek Inn, where we may find a little time for rest."

The hobbit gazed at the landscape before him. The area was still heavily wooded and only a few houses were scattered about, emitting a warm orange glow from the windows. In front of him stood the inn, fairly large with a pleasant appearance. Near the right side of the inn ran a long stream, flowing fast down the land, near flooding from the rain. At the side of the building stood a stable and a man was approaching from there. His clothing was ragged and covered in muck and straw.

"Good evening sirs and welcome to The Willowcreek Inn," he chirped. "My name is Irune and as you can all ready tell I run the stables. Shall I take that steed off your hands?"

"Yes, thank you," Sam answered. "Also, is it possible to obtain a new one? This one has been pretty much run down from our long ride."

The man nodded. "Why certainly, for a price of course. Nothing comes free in these parts. See the owner of the inn, Brandel Loomis, and perhaps you can work out a good deal with him. He should be near the bar. Mind your steps though. There's some rough looking men in there and though we normally don't like their type we couldn't turn them away. You see, we're the only inn for miles and the extra money could be used. You should be pleased though. There are some other hobbits roaming around inside."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Come, let us go inside Merry. You look like you could use a bite to eat. I know your ill and all but you've got to try at least or you'll never make it to Crickhollow in one place."

"Maybe a little," Merry replied, still groggy. "I don't want to overdo it, seeing as to how I reacted to the last amount I tried to consume."

"Are you feeling any better?" Sam asked.

"A bit but that will soon pass and I will go back to feeling rotten," Merry grumbled.

Entering the inn the two hobbits found themselves in the middle of a dining room. All tables were nearly filled with men and woman drinking ale and feasting. In the far corner stood smaller tables and seated around them was a small group of hobbits.

"Finally, a group we can associate ourselves with," Sam sighed. "Why don't you have a seat while I talk to the owner?"

"Very well," Merry said.

He walked passed the crowded tables noticing glares and murmurs from the men, especially several around the fireplace. Ignoring them, he approached the hobbit table and introduced himself. The others welcomed him, offered him a place to sit along with a cup of ale. After graciously refusing the drink he told them of his long journey to satiate their curiosity, only leaving out the attacks he had suffered. Once his tale was finished most went back to their previous engagements; all save one of the hobbits by the name of Milo Bulge who had once been a childhood friend.

"My, my I can't believe my eyes!" Milo exclaimed. "I never thought I would be seeing you again! How long it has been Merry."

"Yes, it has been long," Merry replied. "One day I was playing with you in the fields of Crickhollow and the next you plum disappeared on me. Where did you get off to?"

"Adventure my friend," Milo chuckled. "I couldn't stand staying in The Shire any longer. Don't get me wrong, it was a wonderful place to live but the life that was being handed down to me didn't appeal to my tastes. My father, bless his departed soul, wanted me to be a farmer and I had no interest in it. Also there were other family issues that involved me, such as marrying a certain Penelope Hardgirtle that I just wasn't ready for. So, one day I just packed up my things and left to journey to the forests near Nenuial. I had a cousin, just about as crazy as I am, who lived there at the time who took me in. For years I stayed there until I felt the urge to take off again, that and I heard my father was searching for me. I've done a lot of traveling and been as far as The Blue Mountains. Though, I always return to The Shire. I could never permanently leave it. Enough about me though, it's obvious you've done far more then I ever will."

"Yes, and a lot you wouldn't want to do," Merry muttered. "I've been gone far too long and it feels good to run into old acquaintances."

Milo frowned. "You sound depressed, as if this will be our last meeting. I know I'll be off once more but as I said, I'll be returning to The Shire. We'll meet again."

"Yes," Merry said. "Now, where is Sam? He's been gone for some time now."

"Oh dear, is that him over there?" Milo pointed.

Merry turned and his cheeks flushed. The hobbit was trying to make his way through the crowd but several of the men were hassling him. Sam turned, said a few words, and broke free from the man holding him. The hobbit stormed over to the table and stood next to Merry's chair.

"Well, I managed to work out a deal with the owner," Sam said. "He'll give us a new pony if we give him our old one and about twenty gold coins. It's a good enough deal I guess, figuring how our pony is worn out and we'll be receiving a fresh one."

Merry looked back at the men. "What was that about?"

Sam growled. "Nothing much. Just drunk men that don't know what they're doing."

Milo laughed. "I hear you. Men seem to have a hard time keeping their paws off of us."

"Whatever is the matter with them?" Sam snarled.

"Why, they must be so overwhelmed with our natural good looks that they can't help themselves," Milo snickered. "Ah, if only I could get the lasses to claw at me the way some of the men around here do. I can't rightly explain their behavior; I suppose some are just deranged. Don't judge them all the same though. There are a lot of good men out there and it seems the bad ones ruin their reputation. But, as you were saying, some knock back too much ale and grab anything in sight, especially when they can't get the women. A lot of them travel around and obviously don't get that _extra attention_ if you get my drift. That's why you need be very cautious around here. The bad types have been coming in more frequently, which is why you don't see as many hobbits around here. I hate admitting it but in a sense we are easy targets. We're small, don't pack much of a fight compared to full grown men, and can be easily subdued." 

"Anyway, I think it is time for Merry and I to turn in," Sam said. "We've had a long journey."

"Why so soon?" a voice asked. The hobbits turned to view a man in the corner with ebony hair and clothes to match. The men around him were chuckling. "You, with the sandy curls, yes you the one that's standing; why don't you come over here? We'll make it worth staying up."

"Thank you for the invitation but I will pass," Sam sneered. "Come Merry, we better go."

Milo nodded. "We can catch up some other time friend. You look weary. I can tell you desperately need rest." He shook Merry's hand before standing up to place his lips near the other hobbit's ear. "Be careful. Those are the bad ones I was talking about. Watch your back and your friend's as well. If you need anything my room number is 19. You can also reach the owner in his room just behind the bar. He's a kind man. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight," Merry said, heading out the door behind Sam.

The room was small, housing only one bed but it was comfortable and Merry feel asleep quickly on the feather mattress next to Sam's form. He woke in the middle of the night, restless and unable to fall back asleep. Sam, however, was still sleeping and snoring loudly. Gently, he placed his feet on the wooden floor and began to rise from the bed. The nagging inner voice had returned, telling him to remain in bed, but being bold and stubborn as he was he dismissed it. 

He placed his waistcoat back on and ventured out of the room, continuing down the steps until he reached the dining room. There, he stepped outside to breathe in the cool night air. The clouds had dissipated leaving the sky in plain view along with the dozens of twinkling stars. In the corner of his eye he saw a separate hut near the flowing stream, a bathhouse. Walking inside he found a lit oil lamp but otherwise empty. A portion of the floor had been cut away allowing the clear water to be in plain view. He locked the door, grabbed the basin, undressed, and attempted to cleanse his ragged body.

An hour had passed before he left the tiny shack feeling a little cleaner and refreshed. He made it as far as the inn door when form burst through it. It was Milo.

"Have you seen Sam?" Milo asked.

"What?" Merry asked, confused.

"A few minutes ago I saw that group of men that had been bothering him earlier carrying something into their room," Milo said. "Whatever it was, it was smaller then them and putting up one hell of a fight. For some reason or another the poor soul couldn't get a word out, must have been gagged. I didn't want to go and investigate since it was dangerous so instead I went to your room to see if everything was all right. The door was locked shut but no one answered."

Merry dashed past Milo and ran up the steps where he opened the room with his key. Indeed, the room was empty upon entry and there were no signs of a struggle. Milo was beside him a few moments later, gazing over the room. A hobbit had ventured from his room across from theirs, curious about the commotion.

"Are you looking for the other hobbit in that room?" he asked. "One with blondish-brown hair?"

"Yes, have you seen him?" Merry inquired.

"Yes, I saw him leave the room as I was returning to mine," he replied. "Asked me if I saw another hobbit by the name of Merry wandering around. When I said no he took off down the stairs. Seemed real worried the poor hobbit."

Merry pressed his back against the wall, sweat sliding down his face. "Oh no, Sam. Those men must have taken him." His cheeks turned crimson. "He was out looking for me and they took him." He remembered the earlier warning he was given and had ignored. Anger and hate rose in him, all directed at himself. He had put his friend in danger. "I must help him before any harm is done."

"You don't mean to fight them on your own do you?" Milo asked in shock. "Please, wait. We need to tell the owner about this."

"There's no time to waste," Merry said rummaging through the packs. "If we wait too long Sam will be hurt, believe me, I know. I won't allow him to suffer the same fate as I...." He became flustered. ".....I mean I....I just need to get to him that's all!"

Milo eyed him but nodded his head. "Fine. You there, go tell the owner about the situation. Tell him that we'll probably need other men to help out if they're willing. There are five men, maybe more that must be dealt with. Then, go inform the other hobbits in their rooms as well. We need all the help we can get."

"Right," the hobbit said, taking off down the stairs.

Merry found what he was looking for in the packs. "Do you know how to work a sword?"

Milo caught the one flung to him. "Of course. You don't travel in this dangerous world without learning a thing or two about self-defense."

"Take me to their room," Merry ordered.

As he walked along the hallway his mind was filled with doubt. The injuries he had endured in the weeks had left him dreadfully weak and he wondered if he could still put up a fight. He shook his head at the thoughts.

'Weak or not I don't have a choice,' Merry thought. 'Sam will not be taken if I have anything to do about it. I have to try, even if it does mean failure.' He gazed at the room before and griped his sword while Milo did the same next to him. He was prepared to fight, whether it would result in his death or not. 'Here I come Sam.'

More to follow.


	10. CH 10

****

Warnings: Violence and non-consensual themes.

Merry reached for the doorknob, turned it, and kicked open the door. Firelight glimmered in the room, illuminating the men and casting their shadows over the wall. Four of the men were sitting near the fireplace while the other was positioned over the bed, holding something down. Merry recognized the man with ebony hair. All the men raised their heads at the intrusion giving Merry a clear view of the person underneath the man. The hobbit was Sam and his cheeks were rosy in pale shimmering light, trails of tears streaming down. His short had been torn open and one of the man's hands was griping at Sam's trousers, nearly pulling them down. The man pinning him smirked and rose off the bed, giving Sam a clear chance to run. Merry voiced for him to stop but Sam was too far off the bed to hear his words. The man dug his fingers into Sam's curls and pulled him back before he could get away, covering the hobbit's mouth with his hand.

"What's this all about?" the man snarled. "This is a private room and I do not appreciate people just barging in."

"You know what this is about scoundrel," Merry hissed. "I believe that is my friend, who are you are holding against his will. Release him at once or suffer the consequences. I will not tolerate any heinous acts being committed upon him."

"The name is Ralof, not scoundrel, little halfling," the man scowled. "Furthermore, there is nothing scandalous taking place here. The hobbit is here of his own free will. How could I hurt such a pretty thing?"

"He doesn't appear to be too happy with your ministrations," Milo said. "Let him speak. Remove your hand from his mouth."

Ralof's smile faded. "This matter is none of your concern. I think it would be wise if you left at once," a wicked gleam growing, "or you will be the ones to suffer. Do you actually expect to fight? I am three times your size not mention there are only two of you and five of us."

"That may be for the mean time anyway," Merry replied. "All ready the owner of this inn is being informed of your activities and more men will come here, to aid us. I suggest that you leave immediately or I will kill you if you insist on fighting." He smirked at the man. "I only wish to fight you because you seem to be the only one molesting my friend at the moment but if you're that insecure about fighting me then by all means use the other four men."

Ralof's lips curled in a fierce snarl. He shoved Sam aside into the arms of two awaiting men, who began to carry him to the side door.

"None of that!" Milo shouted. "You two stay in place where I can keep an eye on you or you shall be the next to fall!"

The men stopped, taken back at the command of the hobbit's voice. Ralof turned to them and ordered them to keep moving but they refused, seeming to sense something about the two hobbits he could not. The man then spoke something in a foreign tongue and the others nodded. Letting out another snarl Ralof drew out a dagger from his boot and lunged for Merry. The hobbit weaved to the side, only losing a shred of his shirt to the slashing blade. Merry whipped around and drove his steel blade into the back of Ralof's thigh, causing the man to yelp. Driven on pain, the man spun around and slammed the butt end of the blade across Merry's right cheek. The hobbit spiraled out of control due to the sheer force of the blow until he crashed into the wall and slid down to the floor. When he regained his composure he felt a hand wrap around his throat, squeezing tightly while the other traced the tip of the blade over his belly.

"Bad move halfling," Ralof chuckled. "When will you and your kind ever learn that you are no match for men? I was going to make the night nice and pleasurable for your friend over there but due to you I think I will make things more difficult and painful for him. I doubt he'll ever walk again once I finished, considering if he lives after tonight. Who knows, my men might want a try at him."

Merry screeched, finding he still held his sword, and drove into the side of Ralof's abdomen. The man choked, eyes wide in shock at the wound gushing blood below him. He glared back up at Merry and rose his dagger over Merry's chest, intent on piercing the heart. Ralof's entire body shuddered and fell to the side. Merry gazed up to find Milo hovering over him, holding a sword mid-way in the air with blood dribbling down.

"You all right?" Milo asked.

"Except for a few bruises I am fine," Merry replied. "What of the other men?" He turned around to find the other men had deserted, taking Sam with them. "Why would they leave?" The answer was found in the doorway. Brandel was emerging into the room followed by several other men and hobbits. "Good to see help finally arrived, however late."

"I'm sorry Merry but I couldn't stop the other men," Milo said. "I saw them drag Sam out and attempted to run after them but I saw you fall and I just couldn't leave you behind."

"I understand," Merry said.

"What has happened here?" Brandel asked.

"There's no time for that now," Merry said. "I must find Sam."

"Merry, wait, don't go alone!" Milo called after him.

Ralof laughed behind them. "He'll never reach his friend in time."

"What are you talking about?!" Milo asked, raising the blade threateningly. 

The man smiled, bearing red teeth. "That little speech that you couldn't understand, I basically told them to dump the hobbit in the river while I kept you two distracted. After all, hobbits can't swim. If I'm going down I'm taking at least one of you with me."

Milo gazed out the open door in fright and ran outside, catching a glimpse of Merry in the distance. He took off after him, ignoring the men and hobbits shouting for him to come back.

Merry was glancing madly at the ground, following the fresh trails of tracks left in the mud. Lifting his head he could see the outline of four figures in the moonlight near the flowing stream. He cried out when he noticed that one of the forms was thrown in. The hobbit dashed toward the riverbank and when the other men noticed his approach they ran off into the woods. Merry caught a glimpse of Sam struggling in the flowing current, heading further and further away. The hobbit sank beneath the water and Merry dove in after him.

More to follow.


	11. CH 11

The water was ice cold as Merry hit, stinging his flesh like tiny needles as he sank beneath current. It was murky, which made it difficult for the hobbit for the hobbit to see anything. Then, beams from the moon reflected off the shimmering surface, giving Merry enough light to spot his sinking companion. He reached out, took hold of the flailing arm, and struggled to reach the surface of the creek. The two lunged upward, both gasping frantically for air while Merry attempted to keep his hold on the other hobbit to keep him from floating down stream. Merry swam diligently toward the shore but it was not easy fighting the swift current. It was some time before the two managed to reach the stable ground and they collapsed against it, completely exhausted and freezing. 

"I owe you my life Merry," Sam panted, shivering violently. "If I weren't for you I would of surly drown and if you hadn't barged in before.....well I don't want to think about what could have been. Thank you."

"Think nothing of it," Merry chuckled. "Besides, we aren't out of danger yet. If we do not reach the inn I fear we will freeze to death."

A low rustling came from behind, alerting both hobbits and causing them to jump upright. The tension faded when Milo's form came rushing out of the foliage, carrying several sets of blankets. He stopped and smirked at the two.

"I figured you two might need these, considering you would end up in the water," Milo snickered. "My, what a sight you are! Looking like a pair of drowned rats! Here, take these and warm up! I wouldn't want the two of you to catch your death of cold."

Merry took the soft blankets and firmly wrapped two around Sam's trembling body, only taking one for himself. After enveloping the blanket around his shoulders, Merry motioned to the inn.

"What is happening to Ralof and his men?" Merry inquired.

"Well, Brandel has called on the Marshall and he'll be dropping by to pick up Ralof and the few of his men that were captured," Milo answered. "They'll be placed in a holding cell and kept there until a proper punishment can be thought of."

"Not all of them were captured though?" Merry asked.

"I'm afraid not," Milo sighed. "There's currently a scouting party but it looks dismal that they will be caught. At least the leader has been captured though."

"Yes, I suppose," Merry groaned, feeling lightheaded. "Perhaps I should lay down for a bit. I do not feel well."

The dizziness grew, causing the world around him to spin, making a growing darkness sweep over his eyes. He heard drowning words from Milo and Sam, stumbled, and fell to the ground, allowing the gloom take over.

Merry woke to a sharp pain coursing through his side. He glanced around, trying to find the source of the jerky movements. To his amazement, he was on a pony with a firm chest hard against his back. Turning his head, he saw Sam smiling down at him. Another pony was riding alongside them containing Milo's figure.

"Glad to see you awake," Sam chirped. "I suppose you'll want to know where you are?" Merry nodded. "We've passed the Shire borders and are now heading toward Crickhollow. It will be no more then a day until we reach the destination."

"Why did we leave the inn though?" Merry asked, coughing.

A grim look came over Sam. "Because you are becoming worse and I do not know how much longer you have to live. Every hour, minute, and second is precious. We have to keep riding or we won't get there in time."

Milo pulled up beside the two, his eyes red and cheeks stained from trails of tears. "You could have told me before, you know. I am your friend after all."

"I apologize Milo," Merry murmured, "but I did not have the strength to discuss such matters at the time. I suppose it's better that Sam informed you anyway. The whole issue humiliates me so much. Please understand?"

Milo snorted, using his sleeve to rub at his eyes. "Of course I understand, old friend."

"Are you certain you want to journey back to Crickhollow?" Merry joked. "There's a possibility you could run into Penelope again."

Milo shrugged. "If I meet up with her, I'll do the same as last time: run."

Sam shook his head. "Disgraceful Master Milo. Disgraceful."

"Believe me, Sam, that if you saw her face you would run too," Milo laughed.

The rest of the journey was silent, allowing Merry to fully appreciate the landscape around him. It had been so long since he had laid eyes on the beauty of the Shire. The sight made the homesickness vanish and a slight feeling of peace entered his mind. He was almost home. The thought sent joy surging through him. He would see his son

The day drew on, leisurely growing dim with the setting sun. The three travelers had entered a pathway and were slowly approaching the homes of Crickhollow. Anxiousness swept over Merry. The land had grown familiar and he knew the Smallburrow's house was not far ahead.

"Easy Merry, you're shifting in the saddle too much," Sam warned. "I don't want you falling out and giving yourself more injuries. I doubt you could sustain much more."

The hobbit hole came into plain view. Smoke was streaming from the chimney and a warm, orange glowed through one of the windows, while two figures could be seen tending to the garden. Merry struggled against Sam's hold and, against the other's protests, jumped down to break in a sprint toward the dwelling. Both heads shot up at the sight of the oncoming hobbit. One of them dropped the rack and stepped forward, shielding the smaller one.

"Who are you?" Nad called out. "What do you want?" His jaw gapped open when Merry slowed and stepped out of the growing shadows. "Merry Brandybuck? Is that really you?"

"None other," Merry answered, chuckling cheerfully. "How good it is to see your face!"

"And yours as well!" Nad cried, embracing the hobbit tightly. "My goodness, is that Samwise Gamgee and....Milo Bulge? Greetings to you two as well. It's been too long." He turned back to Merry. "I'm glad you made it here safely, just as King Elessar promised. My wife will be overjoyed with this news." He motioned to the figure behind. "I believe there is someone here who wants to meet you, Pippin. Please step forward and say hello to your father."

The young hobbit moved forward, eliciting a gasp from Merry. The boy was handsome, containing features that resembled Estella and even his lost cousin. Tears began to weld in Merry's eyes. Bright, hazel eyes gazed up at him with uncertainty. He nearly keeled over from the look the boy was giving him. The hobbit lowered his head, clear droplets dribbling down the side of his face and splattering to the ground.

"Father," Pippin murmured.

Merry's head jerked up when he felt a warm body press against him, drawing him into a delicate embrace. Heavy sobs grew in Merry's chest and he clutched the boy, burying his face in the other hobbit's shoulder. At long last, he was home and in the arms of his beloved son.

More to follow. 


	12. CH 12

****

Warnings: Character death

The embrace between father and son was short lived. A spasm shot through Merry's abdomen and the hobbit hunched over in pain, grasping the throbbing side tightly. His face contorted in misery and he collapsed roughly to the dirt. The boy above him gave a shrill cry of terror and the other three hobbits rushed over to his side, attempting to haul his form off the ground.

"Merry! Merry can you hear me?!" Sam yelled, tapping Merry's check lightly. "Stay with us!"

"Oh, Sam, I don't....I don't feel...." Merry stuttered, clasping his hand over his mouth.

The hobbit shoved the others aside, falling to his knees, jerking his hand away as a stream of vomit flooded out of his mouth. It was red. The crimson color stained his pale hands, seeped into the ground, and streamed down the front of his shirt.

"Nad, fetch the doctor now!" Milo barked. "Something is terribly wrong!"

"I will get Dr. Brombleburr immediately!" Nad shot back, dashing down the trail.

Milo crouched next Merry, slamming the palm of his hand over the hobbit's back, helping the other clear the spew that was lodged in his throat. A gurgle rose in Merry's throat and he slumped against the ground, groaning in agony. Sam was next to him in a hurry, once again helping the other hobbit to his feet and trying to reach the doorway. Pippin ran ahead, stretching a shaky hand toward the knob, twisting it until the door swung open. Poppy emerged from the archway, a startled look forming on her face as she spotted the two hobbits towing Merry's form.

"Goodness, what is wrong?!" Poppy cried.

"Ms. Poppy my father has gone ill!" Pippin wailed. "We must get him inside to the bedchamber!"

"Yes, of course," Poppy muttered, motioning them inside. "Go down the hallway and turn right. You should find the bed there. Is there anything I can get in the mean time?"

"Bring cold water and rags," Sam ordered. "His body is burning up and we'll need the rags to cool him down. Also, bring a pitcher of cool water. I fear that he is dehydrating."

The two hobbits continued to ease Merry into the household until finally reaching the chamber. Merry was gently plopped onto the bed and the two began to remove his clothing, intent on placing a nightshirt over him for comfort. Instantly, the hobbit began to struggle against their grip. In his state of delirium, the images of Milo, Sam, and Pippin had turned to ones of orcs. They were leering over him, tearing at his clothing and flesh.

"No! You will not take me again you foul creatures!" Merry shrieked, thrashing madly in the bed. "Not again!"

"What is his problem?!" Milo snapped, attempting to keep his hold.

"He is hallucinating!" Sam shouted. "The poor hobbit thinks we're orcs! He is probably remembering the old days when.....he went through that terrible time.....Go gently, Milo! I do not want any more harm to come to him! Look at the stitches! They're coming undone!"

"I am doing the best that I can!" Milo growled, "but he is making things difficult! I won't be able to keep him under control for much longer!"

Pippin dashed to the side of the bed, rubbing his hand in a soothing motion over Merry's slick brow. "Please, father, they are only trying to help you. Please, stop fighting."

Merry's movements stilled, save the ragged breathing coming from his heaving chest. Glazed orbs glanced up at the young hobbit. A smile came over his features.

"Pippin, dearest Pippin," Merry murmured. "I thought you had died...."

"What is he talking about?" Pippin asked, eyes raising with confusion.

"Do you not know?" Sam inquired. "You were named after his cousin, Peregrin Took, the one who died at the hands of the robbers. That was a long time ago, though."

"Before, he was talking about orcs," Pippin began, "where did he get that notion?"

Sam sighed. "I suppose that portion of father's life was never explained to you. Only a select few know of it, for Merry was so greatly shamed by it. I'm not comfortable giving you the information, but I'm certain he would have told you some of the tales."

For some time, Sam told Pippin of the past and Merry's ordeal with the robbers and the orcs of the old days. The hobbit listened on with disbelief in his eyes. 

"That poor hobbit," Milo murmured. "He didn't deserve to go through such a hell, one as kind and gentle as him. If only the world were a more peaceful place, perhaps he could have had a better life."

"Aye, there are a lot of things that shouldn't have happened in the old days," Sam muttered, "but what's done is done. These matters will always persist in the world, for the evil in it will never be destroyed. Merry has had a rough time, there's no denying it, but in a way a good life was presented to him. Many friends and companions have been at his side and he had a wonderful cousin, a breathtaking wife, and now a son. There have been times of darkness and despair for him, but also light and hope."

Merry became still and fell into another deep sleep. Sam and Milo were able to slip the nightshirt without further problems, careful to avoid touching the infected stitches. Poppy came with the drenched rags and pitcher, placing them near the edge of the bed. The hobbits then took turns placing the damp cloths over Merry's forehead, also clasping the cool hand in comfort. Within the hour, Merry was in and out of consciousness. He was no longer hallucinating, but found it difficult to speak through his sore throat. The vomiting was still persistent, and it turned a darker shade of red with each passing minute. 

"Where is Nad with that doctor?!" Milo screeched.

"I'm sure he is doing the best that he can," Sam replied. "There are other hobbits in need of a doctor too."

Milo grumbled and slumped in a nearby chair. Footsteps thudded across the wooden floor, growing louder as it approached the door. Brombleburr burst through the doorway and immediately strode to the side of the bed where Merry lay. He drew back a portion of the nightshirt, gazing over the swollen belly and stitching. Yellow pus was leaking out the sides and dribbling down to the mattress. The doctor solemnly shook his head.

"I fear there is nothing that I can do for him," Brombleburr sighed. "The infection and fever are too great. Also, it seems there is eternal bleeding from the amount of blood he is spewing. No type of medicine or surgery can cure that."

"Come now, there must be something!" Sam wailed. Deep within his heart, Sam knew the impending fate of the other hobbit, but a part of him wanted to believe there was hope. Frodo, Pippin, two of his companions, were already lost to him for the time being and he was not prepared to lose another. The weight of sorrow and guilt were overpowering. "Please, do something for him!"

"The only thing that can be done is to make him comfortable as possible," Brombleburr muttered. "He is dying; it appears he has been for a while. I am sorry, but Merry will not make it through the night." He squeezed the unconscious hobbit's hand. "I must leave. There is an urgent matter else where I must attend to. Merry was a great friend. I will miss him deeply. Forgive me, but I must go."

Stifling a sob, the hobbit spun around and walked out the door, leaving behind stunned faces. Milo slid further down his seat, head twitching and slowly lowering to his lap. Tears slid down Sam's cheeks and he sat at the edge of the bed, taking the cold hand in his, fighting back the sobs growing in his throat. He massaged the frail hand gently. Nad and Poppy were in the doorway, holding each other in a tight embrace while Pippin inched once more toward the bed.

"Father?" Pippin choked, kneeling near the edge. The boy trailed a finger across a flushed, sweaty cheek. "Please, wake up."

At the sound of the boy's voice, Merry's ears perched. His head slumped to the side and his eyes gradually opened. A warm smile formed on the hobbit's face.

"Pippin, my boy," Merry murmured. Extending a shaky hand, he cupped his palm around the boy's cheek, using a finger to wipe away a single tear sliding down. "Don't cry my son. This is a joyous occasion."

Pippin shook his head. "How is this blissful?! You are dying!"

"That may be," Merry began, "but I couldn't be more happy. I was able to see you one last time. I couldn't believe my eyes when I first spotted you. So much about you had changed since I saw you last as a wee baby. You have grown into the perfect hobbit, my son. Handsome, strong, intelligent, I couldn't ask for anything more in son. You have managed to thrive for twenty years knowing that your father abandoned you." 

"Father, you did not abandon me!" Pippin snapped. "You did what was best and I am grateful for that."

Merry smiled. "I am proud of you, my son." His eyelids drooped, and he gave off a yawn. "I am so weary. Perhaps it is time for me to find rest."

Pippin jerked, and clenched his hands tight around Merry's. "No father! It's too soon! We've barely spent any time together! It's not fair!"

Merry chuckled bitterly. "Life isn't fair, my son. I, of all hobbits, know that well." He choked. "But at least I was able to see you, even for a little while. I love you son." He spun his head, facing Sam. "Thank you Sam, for everything. I would have never made it without your aid. Thank you too, Milo. The both of you have proven to be wonderful friends."

"It was nothing," Sam sniffled. "I would do anything to help you, Merry."

Milo nodded, unable to speak.

"I....."

His voice went hoarse and no more words could pass his lips. Tears seeped down his chin and his vision became blurry. He could sense Sam crouching over to him, trying to shake him awake. Merry reached out, trying to latch on to something, but couldn't maintain his hold. There were sobs and screams everywhere and they could hardly be told apart.

"Father! Father, do not leave me!" Pippin called out.

Merry wanted to assure him, to hold him, but in this final state nothing could be done. His vision worsened and everything seemed to vanish. The sensation in his body was starting to disappear and his limbs went ridged. Panic was settling into him at the lack of movement.

In the background the distant shout of Milo and the wailing of his son could be heard. The pain, once so overwhelming, quickly ebbed away. He felt his body becoming light and a tingling sensation spread down his spine. Fear came to mind, then. He wanted to stay. There so much that had been left unsaid and so much that needed to be done, but it was over. No longer could he make out the sounds in the room and a bright white enveloped his vision, blinding him. Nothing could be made out at first, but in the distance he spotted something. 

His body moved upward, gently soaring away from the world he had known for so long. He was entering a new plain of existence now. The uncertainty left his mind and he continued on to the figures, crying in joy when two sets of familiar arms wrapped around him. Peace, happiness, things he thought he would never find again, were at last his. 

"Welcome home, dear cousin."

"Glad to have you with us, my husband."

Epilogue may follow.


End file.
